Make time for friends. Make time for Debbie Macomber.

CEDAR COVE

16 Lighthouse Road

204 Rosewood Lane

311 Pelican Court

44 Cranberry Point

50 Harbor Street

6 Rainier drive

74 Seaside Avenue

8 Sandpiper Way

92 Pacific Boulevard

1022 Evergreen Place

1105 Yakima Street

BLOSSOM STREET

The Shop on Blossom Street

A Good Yarn

Susannah’s Garden

(previously published as Old Boyfriends) Back on Blossom Street (previously published as Wednesdays at Four) Twenty Wishes Summer on Blossom Street Hannah’s List A Turn in the Road

Thursdays at Eight

Christmas in Seattle

Falling for Christmas

A Mother’s Gift

Angels at Christmas

A Mother’s Wish

The Manning Sisters

The Manning Brides

The Manning Grooms

Praise for New York Times bestselling author

Debbie Macomber

‘Debbie Macomber is a skilled storyteller

and a sure-buy with readers’

—Publishers Weekly

‘Just what the doctor ordered for that feel-good factor’

—Sunday Express on Hannah’s List

‘A charming and touching tale of love,

loss and friendship’

—Closer magazine on Hannah’s List

‘Another touching read from Macomber’

—OK! magazine on Susannah’s Garden

‘An emotional, heart-warming and

highly enjoyable read’

—Closer magazine on Thursdays at Eight

‘She’s sold seventy million books and this

is another heart-tugger’

—Evening Telegraph on A Turn in the Road

‘Debbie Macomber’s books have such a lovely

feel-good factor to them’

—lovereading

About the Author

DEBBIE MACOMBER is a number one New York Times bestselling author. Her recent books include 44 Cranberry Point, 50 Harbor Way, 6 Rainier Drive, and Hannah’s List. She has become a leading voice in women’s fiction worldwide and her work has appeared on every major bestseller list. There are more than one hundred million copies of her books in print. For more information on Debbie and her books, visit www.debbie Macomber.com.

The Manning
Grooms

Jason’s Story

in

Bride on the Loose

James’s Story

in

Same Time, Next Year

Debbie Macomber

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Jason’s Story

in

Bride on the Loose

Debbie Macomber

To Virginia and Dean,

whose fifty years of love have inspired me.

Happy Golden Wedding Anniversary!

One

It was one of those days. Jason Manning scrubbed his hands in the stainless-steel sink, then applied ointment to several scratches. He’d just finished examining and prescribing antibiotics for a feisty Persian cat with a bladder infection. The usually ill-mannered feline had never been his most cooperative patient, but today she’d taken a particular dislike to Jason.

He left the examining room and was greeted by Stella, his receptionist, who steered him toward his office. She wore a suspiciously silly grin, as if to say “this should be interesting.”

“There’s a young lady who’d like a few minutes with you,” was all the information she’d give him. Her cryptic message didn’t please him any more than the Persian’s blatant distaste for him had.

Curious, Jason moved into his book-lined office. “Hello,” he said in the friendliest voice he could muster.

“Hi.” A teenage girl who seemed vaguely familiar stood as he entered the room. She glanced nervously in his direction as if he should recognize her. When it was obvious he didn’t, she introduced herself. “I’m Carrie Weston.” She paused, waiting expectantly.

“Hello, Carrie,” Jason said. He’d seen her around, but for the life of him, couldn’t recall where. “How can I help you?”

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Ah … no.” He couldn’t see any point in pretending. If a cat could outsmart him, he was fair game for a teenager.

“We’re neighbors. My mom and I live in the same apartment complex as you.”

He did his best to smile and nod as though he’d immediately placed her, but he hadn’t. He racked his brain trying to recall which apartment was hers. Although he owned and managed the building, Jason didn’t interact much with his tenants. He was careful to choose renters who cared about their privacy as much as he cared about his. He rarely saw any of them other than to collect the rent, and even then most just slipped their checks under his door around the first of the month.

Carrie sat back down, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. “I—I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve been trying to talk to you for some time, and … and this seemed to be the only way I could do it without my mother finding out.”

“Your mother?”

“Charlotte Weston. We live in 1-A.”

Jason nodded. The Westons had been in the apartment for more than a year. Other than when they’d signed the rental agreement, Jason couldn’t recall speaking to either the mother or her daughter.

“Is there a problem?”

“Not a problem … exactly.” Carrie stood once again and opened her purse, taking out a thin wad of bills, which she leafed through and counted slowly. When she’d finished, she looked up at him. “It’s my mother,” she announced.

“Yes?” Jason prompted. He didn’t have a clue where this conversation was leading or how long it would take the girl to get there. Stella knew he had a terrier waiting, yet she’d purposely routed him into his office.

“She needs a man,” Carrie said, squaring her shoulders.

“I beg your pardon?” The girl had his attention now.

“My mother needs a man. I’m here to offer you one hundred dollars if you’ll take her out on a date. You are single, aren’t you?”

“Yes … but …” Jason was so surprised, he answered without thinking. Frankly, he didn’t know whether to ask which of his brothers had put her up to this, or simply to laugh outright. He couldn’t very well claim he’d never been propositioned before, but this was by far the most original instance he’d encountered in thirty-odd years.

“She’s not ugly or anything.”

“Ah … I’m not sure what to tell you.” The girl was staring at him so candidly, so forthrightly, Jason realized within seconds it was no joke.

“I don’t think my mother’s happy.”

Jason leaned against the side of his oak desk and crossed his arms. “Why would you assume my taking her out will make a difference?”

“I … don’t know. I’m just hoping. You see, my mom and dad got divorced when I was little. I don’t remember my dad, and apparently he doesn’t remember me, either, because I’ve never heard from him. Mom doesn’t say much about what went wrong, but it must’ve been bad because she never dates. I didn’t care about that before, only now …”

“Only now what?” Jason asked when she hesitated.

“I want to start dating myself, and my mother’s going totally weird on me. She says I’m too young. Boy, is she out of it! I’m not allowed to date until I’m sixteen. Can you imagine anything so ridiculous?”

“Uhh …” Jason wasn’t interested in getting involved in a mother-daughter squabble. “Not being a father myself, I can’t really say.”

“The ninth-grade dance is coming up in a few weeks and I want to go.”

“Your mother won’t allow you to attend the dance?” That sounded a bit harsh to Jason, but as he’d just stated, he wasn’t in a position to know.

“Oh, she’ll let me go, except she intends to drop me off and pick me up when the dance is over.”

“And that’s unacceptable?”

“Of course it is! It’s—it’s the most awful thing she could do to me. I’d be mortified to have my mother waiting in the school parking lot to take me home after the dance. I’d be humiliated in front of my friends. You’ve just got to help me.” A note of desperation raised her voice on the last few words.

“I don’t understand what you want me to do,” Jason hedged. He couldn’t see any connection between Carrie’s attending the all-important ninth-grade dance and him wining and dining her mother.

“You need me to spell it out for you?” Carrie’s eyes were wide, her gaze scanning the room. “I’m offering you serious money to seduce my mother.”

For a wild instant, Jason thought he hadn’t heard her right. “Seduce her?”

“My mother’s practically a virgin all over again. She needs a man.”

“You’re sure about this?” Jason was having a hard time keeping a straight face. He could hardly wait to tell his brother Rich. The two of them would have a good laugh over it.

“Absolutely positive.” Carrie didn’t even flinch. Her expression grew more confident. “Mom’s forgotten what it’s like to be in love. All she thinks about is work. Don’t get me wrong … My mother’s an awesome person, but she’s so prim and proper … and stubborn. What she really needs is … well, you know.”

Jason felt sorry for the kid, but he didn’t see how he could help her. Now that he thought about it, he did recall what Charlotte Weston looked like. In fact, he could remember the day she’d moved in. She’d seemed feminine and attractive, more than a little intriguing. But he’d noticed a guardedness, too, that sent an unmistakable signal. He’d walked away with the impression that she was as straitlaced as a nun and about as warm and inviting as an Alaskan winter.

“Why me?” Jason was curious enough to wonder why Carrie had sought him out. Apparently his charisma was more alluring than he’d realized.

“Well, because … just because, that’s all,” Carrie answered with perfect teenage logic. “And I figured I wouldn’t have to pay you as much as I would one of those dating services. You seem nice.” She gnawed on her lower lip. “Being a veterinarian is good, too.”

“How’s that?”

“You’ve probably had lots of experience soothing injured animals, and I think my mother’s going to need some of that—comforting and reassuring, you know?” The girl’s voice became fervent. “She’s been hurt…. She doesn’t talk about it, but she loved my father and I think she must be afraid of falling in love again. I even think she might like another baby someday.” This last bit of information was clearly an afterthought. Carrie cast him a speculative glance to be sure she hadn’t said something she shouldn’t have. “Don’t worry about that—she’s probably too old anyway,” she added quickly.

“She wants a baby?” Jason could feel the hair on the back of his neck rising. This woman-child was leading him toward quicksand, and he was going to put a stop to it right now.

“No—no … I mean, she’s never said so, but I saw her the other day holding a friend’s newborn and she had that look in her eyes … I thought she was going to cry.” She paused. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

For one brief, insane moment, Jason had actually considered the challenge of seducing Charlotte Weston, but the mention of a baby brought him solidly back to earth.

“Listen, Carrie,” Jason said, “I’m sorry, but this isn’t going to work.”

“It’s got to,” she pleaded urgently, “just for one date. Couldn’t you ask her out? Just once? If you don’t, I’ll be humiliated in front of my entire class. I’d rather not even go to the dance if my mother drives me.”

Jason hated to disappoint her, but he couldn’t see himself in the role of rescuing a fifteen-year-old damsel in distress from her mother’s heavy hand, even if Carrie did make a halfway decent case.

“Is it the money?” Carrie asked, her eyes imploring. “I might be able to scrounge up another twenty dollars … but I’m going to need some cash for the dance.”

“It isn’t the money,” Jason assured her.

Wearing a dejected look, Carrie stood. “You sure you don’t want to take a couple of days to think it over?”

“I’m sure.”

She released a long, frustrated sigh. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“Good luck.” Jason held open the door. He had no intention of asking Charlotte Weston out on a date, but he he did feel sorry for Carrie. Although he hadn’t been a teenager in years, he hadn’t forgotten how important these things could seem. Things like the ninth-grade dance.

Charlotte let herself into the apartment at six that evening. She slipped off her heels and rubbed the tense muscles at the back of her neck.

“Hi, Mom,” Carrie called cheerfully from the kitchen. “How was work?”

“Fine.” There was no need to burden her daughter with how terrible her day had been. Her job as an executive assistant at a large insurance agency might have sounded high-powered and influential, but in reality it was neither. Charlotte worked long hours with little appreciation or reward. For six months, ever since Harry Ward had taken over as managing director, she’d been telling herself it was time to change jobs. But she couldn’t give up the security of her position, no matter how much she disliked her boss.

“How was school?” she asked.

“Good. Tickets for the dance went on sale today.” Her daughter looked hopefully at Charlotte, as though expecting her to make some profound comment.

Charlotte chose to ignore the pointed stare. Her stand on the dance issue was causing a strain in their relationship, but she refused to give in to her daughter’s pressure. Carrie wasn’t going on an actual date. She was interested in a boy named Brad, but as far as Charlotte was concerned, Carrie could attend the dance with her girlfriends and meet him there. Good grief, the girl was only fifteen!

“Mom, can we please talk about the dance?”

“Of course, but …”

“You’re not going to change your mind, right?” Carrie guessed, then sighed. “What can I say to prove how unreasonable you’re being? Every girl in my class is going to the dance with a boy. And Brad asked me.”

Charlotte reached for an apron, tied it about her waist and opened the refrigerator door. She took out a package of ground turkey for taco salad. She wasn’t up to another round of arguments over the dance.

“Did you buy a dance ticket?” Charlotte asked, forcing an artificial lightness into her voice.

“No. I won’t, either. I’d rather sit home for the rest of my life than have my mother drop me off and pick me up. Brad’s father said he’d drive us both … What am I supposed to tell Brad? That my mother doesn’t trust his father’s driving? You’re making way too big a deal out of this.”

Ah, the certainty of youth, Charlotte mused.

“Will you think about it?” Carrie implored. “Please?”

“All right,” Charlotte promised. She hated to be so hardheaded, but when it came to her daughter, she found little room for compromise. To her way of thinking, Carrie was too young for a real date, even if the boy in question wasn’t the one driving.

The meat was simmering in the cast-iron skillet as Charlotte started to wash the lettuce. The faucet came off in her hand, squirting icy water toward the ceiling, and she gasped.

“What’s wrong?” Carrie asked, leaping up from the kitchen table where she was doing her homework.

“The faucet broke!” Already Charlotte was down on her knees, her head under the sink, searching for the valve to cut off the water supply.

“There’s water everywhere,” Carrie shrieked.

“I know.” Most of it had landed on Charlotte.

“Are you going to be able to fix it?” Carrie asked anxiously.

Charlotte sat on the floor, her back against the lower cupboards, her knees under her chin. This was all she needed to make her day complete. “I don’t know,” she muttered, pushing damp hair away from her face with both hands. “But it shouldn’t be that hard.”

“You should call the apartment manager,” Carrie said. “You’ve had to work all day. If something breaks down, he should be the one to fix it, not you. We don’t know anything about faucets. We’re helpless.”

“Helpless?” Charlotte raised her eyebrows at that. The two of them had dealt with far more difficult problems over the years. By comparison, a broken faucet was nothing. “I think we can handle it.”

“Of course we can, but why should we?” Carrie demanded. “We pay our rent on time every month. The least the manager could do is see to minor repairs. He should fix them right away, too.” She marched over to the wall phone and yanked the receiver from the hook. “Here,” she said dramatically. “You call him.”

“I … I don’t know the number.” They’d lived in the apartment for well over a year and until now there hadn’t been any reason to contact the manager.

“It’s around here somewhere,” Carrie said, pulling open the top kitchen drawer and riffling through the phone book and some other papers. Within a very brief time, she’d located the phone number. “His name is Jason Manning. He’s a veterinarian.”

“He’s a vet? I didn’t realize that.” But then, Charlotte had only met the man once, and their entire conversation had been about the apartment. He seemed pleasant enough. She’d seen him in the parking lot a few times and he struck her as an overgrown kid. Frankly, she was surprised to learn he was a veterinarian, since she’d never seen him in anything other than a baseball cap, jeans and a T-shirt. Dressing up for him was a pair of jeans that weren’t torn or stained and a sweatshirt.

“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.”

Two

With 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.”

“I suppose you’re going to drag the horrors of giving birth into this now—which, I’ll remind you, is completely unfair.”

“I don’t need to. Men have a hard time just dealing with a simple cold. If God had left procreation up to the male of the species, humanity would’ve died out with Adam.”

“That’s three,” Jason muttered ungraciously. “Three is not several. Three is a few.”

Charlotte shook her head. “It’s enough. You don’t have a leg to stand on, but you’re too proud to admit it, which is something else a woman’s more capable of doing.”

“What? Standing on one leg?”

“No, admitting she’s wrong. Don’t get me started on that one. It happens to be a personal peeve of mine.”

“You mean the others weren’t?”

“Not particularly. I was just listing a few of the more obvious facts, waiting for you to come up with even one logical defense—which you failed to do.”

He didn’t seem willing to agree, but it was apparent from the smile he ineffectively struggled to hide that he was aware of his dilemma. He had no option, no argument.

“You realize you’ve backed me into a corner, don’t you? I don’t have any choice but to agree with you, otherwise you’ll brand me as being smug and insensitive, unaware of my feelings and too childish to accept the truth.”

“I suppose you’re right.” If anyone was wearing a smug look, it was Charlotte. She felt triumphant, better than she had all day. All week. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed herself more.

Conceding defeat, Jason moved into the kitchen and returned with a second cold beer for each of them. Charlotte hesitated. She’d never intended to stay this long, and Carrie might be concerned. After all the lectures she’d delivered about being gone longer than expected, Charlotte felt she should go home now. But, to her amazement, she discovered she didn’t want to leave. Watching the rest of the Lakers game with Jason appealed to her a lot more.

“Thanks, anyway, but I should get back to Carrie,” she said.

Although she smiled brightly, some of her reluctance must have shown because Jason said, “So soon?”

“I stayed much longer than I’d planned to.”

“But the game’s only half over.”

“I know, but …”

“Why don’t you call her?” Jason suggested, pointing toward the counter where he kept his phone.

It seemed like a reasonable idea. Charlotte smiled and headed for the kitchen. She punched out her number and waited. Carrie answered on the third ring.

“Oh, hi, Mom,” she said in an unconcerned voice.

“I’m watching the Lakers game with Jason.”

“Okay. We’re not going to move, are we?”

“No, Jason was kind enough to let me withdraw my two-weeks’ notice.”

“Oh, good. He’s a great guy, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Charlotte was surprised by how much she meant it. Jason was a great guy. She hadn’t stumbled on many in the past few—or was that several?—years. It was a treat to encounter a man who was candid, sincere and fun. But Charlotte had been fooled by men before, so she wasn’t taking anything for granted.

“Well?” Jason asked when she replaced the receiver.

If she needed an excuse, he was handing her one on a platter. All she needed to do was make some vague reply about Carrie and she’d be on her way.

“Carrie says she’ll call if she needs me.”

“Excellent.”

His smile was definitely charming, Charlotte decided.

“How about some popcorn?” he asked.

Charlotte nodded eagerly. She hadn’t eaten much dinner, unnerved as she was by her discovery, knowing she’d need to confront him. Jason’s offhand acceptance of her apology endeared him to her even more. If Jason was like her boss, he’d have flayed her alive. Instead, he’d just shrugged it off and given her a beer.

“Let me help,” she said, following him into the kitchen.

“There’s not much to do,” he said, opening his microwave and tossing a bag inside. He set the timer, pushed a button and within a minute the sound of popping kernels filled the kitchen. The smell was heavenly.

When it was ready, Jason poured the popcorn into a large bowl and carried it out to the living room. Charlotte brought paper towels, since she couldn’t find any napkins.

He placed the bowl in the middle of the coffee table and Charlotte joined him on the sofa. The game was about to resume. She tucked her feet beneath her as she’d done earlier, leaning forward now and then to scoop up some popcorn. It tasted wonderful, but that might’ve been because of the company. Or the fact that for the first time all day, she was feeling relaxed.

The Lakers scored twelve straight points and Charlotte rose to her knees, cheering loudly. Normally she was far more reserved, more in control of her emotions. It was as if someone else had taken charge of her mind. Someone more free-spirited and uninhibited. Someone who’d downed two beers on a near-empty stomach. Apparently, hearing that her daughter was bribing men to date her had that kind of effect on her.

Jason cheered, too, and they turned to smile at each other. Their eyes met and held for the longest time. Flustered and unnerved, Charlotte was the first to glance away.

She hadn’t shared such an intense look with a man since college. A look that said, I’m enjoying myself. I’m attracted to you. I’d like to get to know you better … a whole lot better.

Her heart was thumping as she forced her attention back to the TV. She took a deep swallow of beer to hide her discomfort.

Jason went strangely quiet afterward, too. They both made a pretense of being involved in the game. As time went on, however, it wasn’t the Lakers who held their attention—it was each other.

“So,” Jason said abruptly, “where do you work?”

“Downtown, for a large insurance agency. You might’ve heard of them. Davidson and Krier. They have a radio commercial that’s played a lot.” In an effort, weak though it was, to disguise her uneasiness, she sang the all-too-familiar jingle.

“I have heard of them,” Jason said, nodding. His rich baritone concluded the song.

They laughed self-consciously. Charlotte wished she’d had the sense to leave at halftime. No, she amended silently, that wasn’t true. She was glad she’d stayed. If she regretted anything, it was that she was so clumsy when it came to dealing with male-female relationships.

Maybe it wasn’t so strange that Carrie had tried to bribe someone to ask her on a date. Charlotte hadn’t been out with a man in three years. But she hadn’t really missed the dating scene. How could she miss something she’d never actually experienced? She’d hardly dated at all since Tom left.

Tom. The accustomed pain she felt whenever she thought of her ex-husband followed on the heels of the unexpected attraction she felt toward Jason. The two didn’t mix well. One brought back the pain of the past and reminded her that she had no future. The other tempted her to believe she did.

“I should be going,” she announced suddenly, her decision made. She scurried to her feet as if she had a pressing appointment.

“The game’s not over,” Jason said, frowning. He didn’t move for a moment. “Don’t go yet.”

“I’ll watch the rest of it at my place. Thanks so much for the wonderful evening. I enjoyed myself. Really, I did.” She picked up the empty popcorn bowl and the two beer bottles and took them into the kitchen.

Jason trailed her, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He nodded at his garbage can, which was overflowing. There was a semicircle of half-filled bags stacked around it.

“I’ve been meaning to take this out to the Dumpster,” he explained, removing the bottles from her hands and throwing them into a plastic recycling bin.

“I appreciate how understanding you’ve been,” Charlotte said as she walked to the door.

“About what?” he asked.

“Carrie and me and … everything.”

“No problem,” he said a few steps behind. He slipped in front of her and stood by the door.

Charlotte knew she was running away like a frightened rabbit. The trapped feeling had returned and it terrified her as it always had. She’d thought it would be different this time, but that had been the beer. Her fears would never change, never go away. They’d always be there to remind her of her shortcomings, how inadequate she was, how no man could ever be trusted. Tom had proved that. She was anxious to be on her way now, but Jason was blocking her only means of escape.

When she glanced up, some of the fear must have shown in her eyes because he hesitated, studying her.

There was a short silence, too deep to last long, but too intense to ignore. Charlotte held his gaze for as long as she dared before looking away. His eyes were so blue, so serious, so filled with questions. She’d perplexed him, she knew, but she couldn’t explain. Wouldn’t explain.

They’d laughed and teased and joked. But Jason was somber now. Funny, this mood was as appealing as the lightheartedness she’d sensed in him earlier. His mouth, even when he wasn’t smiling, was perfectly shaped. Everything about him was perfect. His high cheekbones, his wide brow and straight nose. Too perfect for her.

The paralyzing regret threatened to explode within her, but Charlotte managed to keep it in check. How, she wasn’t sure. It must’ve been her fear, she decided. Fear of what could happen, the happiness a relationship with him could bring—and the disappointment that would inevitably come afterward. The disappointment he’d feel in her. Then it would be over almost before it had begun.

She looked up one last time, to say goodbye, to thank him, to escape.

In that instant she knew Jason was going to kiss her. But one word, the least bit of resistance, and he wouldn’t go through with it. Charlotte was completely confident of that.

Need and curiosity overcame the anxiety, and she watched, mesmerized, as his mouth descended toward her own. His lips, so warm and seductive, barely touched hers.

Charlotte closed her eyes, trembling and afraid. Her body, seemingly of its own accord, moved toward him, turning into his, seeking the security and the strength she felt in him.

He moaned softly and Charlotte did, too, slanting her head to one side, inviting him to deepen the kiss.

Yet Jason held back. The kiss was light. Sweet. More seductive than anything she’d ever known. It felt wonderful. So wonderful …

Charlotte didn’t understand why he resisted kissing her completely, the way her body was begging him to. Restraining himself demanded obvious effort. She could tell by the rigid way he held himself, the way his hands curved over her shoulders, keeping her at bay. Keeping himself at bay.

Her head was full of the promise his lips had made and hadn’t kept. Full of the possibilities. Full of the surprise and the wonder. She’d never felt like this before.

Once again his mouth brushed over hers, warm and exciting. Moving slowly—so slowly—and so easy, as though he had all the time in the world.

“Jason.” It was a battle for her to breathe. Her heart sounded like a frantic drumbeat in her ears, drowning out coherent thought.

He tensed, then kissed her, really kissed her, wrapping himself around her, absorbing her in his size, his strength, his need.

They remained entwined, arms around each other, until Charlotte could no longer stand. She broke away and buried her head in his shoulder, her breathing heavy.

“Charlotte, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t.” It was the truth; any fear she felt had nothing to do with him. “I have to go … Thank you. For everything.”

But most of all for that kiss, she added silently. It was unlikely he’d ever know how much that single kiss had meant to her.

Three

He’d kissed her. He’d actually kissed Charlotte. An hour later, Jason still had trouble taking it in.

Oh, he’d kissed plenty of women in his day. But this time, with this woman, it was different. He didn’t know how he understood that, but he did. He’d realized it long before he’d touched her. Perhaps because she was so different from what he’d assumed. He’d figured she was dignified, straitlaced, unapproachable. Then, as soon as he’d told her about basketball rules, she’d kicked off her shoes and was cheering as enthusiastically as he was himself. What a contrast he found in her. Prim and proper on the outside, a hellion waiting to break loose on the inside.

She intrigued him. Beguiled him.

At some point during their evening together—exactly when, he couldn’t be sure—he’d felt an unfamiliar tug, a stirring deep within. The feeling hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had intensified.

What they’d shared wasn’t any ordinary kiss, either. Perhaps that explained it. They’d communicated on an entirely different level, one he’d never known before. It seemed their spirits—the deepest, innermost part of themselves—had somehow touched. He shook his head. He was getting fanciful.

No, this wasn’t the kind of kiss he’d had with any other woman. He’d never gone so slowly, been so careful. Although she’d acted blatantly provocative, urging him to deepen the contact, he’d resisted. That same inner voice that had said Charlotte was different had also warned him to proceed with caution. He’d sensed how fragile she was, and the urge to protect her, even from himself, had been overwhelming.

Jason wasn’t generally so philosophical. He didn’t waste time deliberating on relationships or motivations. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking right now. His reaction to Charlotte was unwarranted—wasn’t it? Although it’d been a nice kiss, it wasn’t so spectacular that his whole world should be turned upside down.

Yet it was—flipped over completely.

Jason felt almost giddy with sensation. These feelings weren’t logical. It was as if God had decided to play a world-class trick on him.

Jason considered himself too old for romance. He didn’t even know what romance was. Pure foolishness, he thought sarcastically. It was one of the primary reasons he’d never married, and never intended to. He wasn’t a romantic kind of guy. A pizza and cold beer while watching a football game interested him far more than staring across a candlelit table at some woman and pretending to be overwhelmed by her beauty. Flattery and small talk weren’t for him.

And yet … he remembered how good Charlotte’s arms had felt around his neck. She’d held her body so tightly against his that he could feel her heart beat. It was a closeness that had transcended the physical.

By the time she’d left, Jason felt heady, as if he’d had too much to drink. He didn’t understand her rush, either. He hadn’t wanted her to leave and had tried to come up with a reason for her to stay. Any reason. But she’d quietly slipped out of his arms and left before he could think of a way to keep her there. If he was witty and romantic he might’ve thought of something. But he wasn’t, so he’d been forced to let her go.

Jason started pacing, the Lakers game forgotten. He needed to clear the cobwebs from his head. He wasn’t any good at analyzing situations like this. All he knew was that he’d enjoyed holding Charlotte in his arms, enjoyed kissing her, and he looked forward to doing it again.

He sank down in front of the television, surprised to find the basketball game already over. Stunned, he stared at the credits rolling down the screen. He didn’t even know who won. He waited, hoping the camera would scan the scoreboard, but it didn’t happen.

He had a bet riding on the outcome of the game. Nothing major, just a friendly wager between brothers. Nevertheless, high stakes or low, it wasn’t like Jason Manning to be caught without a final score.

The phone rang and Jason hurried to the kitchen to answer it.

“Hello,” he said absently, keeping his eye on the television, still hoping to learn the final outcome.

“I knew I never should’ve picked the Nuggets,” Rich muttered.

“You mean the Lakers won?”

“By eight points. Where have you been all evening?”

“Home,” Jason returned defensively. “I had company. A tenant stopped in to chat.”

“During a play-off game, and you didn’t get rid of them?”

Actually Jason hadn’t intended to tell his brother even that much, but Rich had a point. Jason wasn’t one to sit around and shoot the breeze when he could be watching a game. Any kind of game.

“It was business,” he explained, unnecessarily annoyed. He felt mildly guilty for stretching the truth. Charlotte’s original intent had been to apologize and tell him she’d changed her mind about moving. That was business. Staying the better part of two hours wasn’t.

Ignoring Jason’s bad mood, Rich chatted on, replaying the last half of the fourth quarter in which the Lakers had made an “amazing” comeback. While his brother was speaking, Jason glanced at the list of his tenants’ phone numbers, which he kept by the phone for easy reference. The way his eyes immediately latched on to Charlotte’s name, anyone might think it had been circled in red. He was so distracted by reading her name over and over in his mind that he missed most of what Rich was telling him.

When the conversation with his brother ended, Jason couldn’t recall more than a few words of what they’d said. Just enough to regret that he hadn’t been watching the game. Just enough to wish he’d thought of something that would’ve prompted Charlotte to stay.

Without a second’s deliberation, he reached for his phone and dialed her number. Carrie answered before the first ring had been completed. She must not have recognized his voice, because she got Charlotte without comment.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” he said, feeling gauche. “The Lakers won.”

“I know.”

Apparently their kiss hadn’t deranged her the way it had him. She must have gone back to her apartment, plunked herself down and watched the rest of the game, while he’d been walking around in a stupor for the past hour.

“I was thinking,” Jason began, “about dinner tomorrow night. That is, if you’re free.”

“Dinner,” she repeated as if this was a foreign concept. “What time?” she asked a moment later.

“Six.”

“Sure.”

His mood lightened. “Great, I’ll pick you up then.” He replaced the receiver and glanced around his kitchen, frustrated by how messy it was. He hated housework, hated having to pick up after himself, hated the everyday chores that made life so mundane. Every dish he owned was dirty, except the ones in his dishwasher, which were clean. It didn’t make sense to reload it while there were clean dishes he could use in there.

Needing something to occupy his mind, he tackled the task of cleaning up the kitchen with unprecedented enthusiasm.

Jason’s eagerness to see Charlotte again had waned by the following afternoon. A good night’s sleep and a day at the clinic had sufficiently straightened out his brain. He’d behaved in a manner that was completely out of character. He couldn’t even begin to figure out why.

Charlotte was a woman. There wasn’t anything special about her. No reason he should be falling all over himself for the opportunity to take her out. He’d missed the last half of an important basketball game because his thoughts had become so tangled up with her. That would’ve been devotion enough for any woman in his life—only she wasn’t in his life, and he intended to keep it that way.

Furthermore, Jason wasn’t that keen on Charlotte’s teenage daughter thinking he’d fallen in with her scheme. He could see it now. Carrie would give him a brilliant smile and a high-five when he arrived. The girl was bound to believe she was responsible for Jason asking Charlotte out. She might even try to slip him some of the money she’d offered him earlier. The whole thing had the potential for disaster written all over it.

If a convenient excuse to cancel this date had presented itself, Jason would’ve grabbed it with both hands.

The way his luck was going, they’d probably run into his parents, and his mother would start hounding him again about getting married. He’d never understood why women considered marriage so important. Frustrated, he’d asked his mother once, and her answer had confused him even more. She’d looked at him serenely without interrupting the task that occupied her hands and had casually said, “It’s good to have a partner.”

A partner! She’d made it sound like he needed a wife in order to compete in a mixed bowling league.

His parents weren’t exactly throwing potential mates his way, but they’d let it be known that they were hoping he’d get married sometime soon. Jason, however, was intelligent enough not to become involved in a lifetime relationship just to satisfy his parents’ wishes.

Whatever craziness had prompted him to ask Charlotte out to dinner had passed during the night. He’d awakened sane and in command of his usual common sense.

As the day went on he found himself actually dreading the date. The two of them had absolutely nothing in common. He’d go through with this, Jason decided grimly, because he was a man of his word. Since he told her he’d be there by six, he would be, but snow would fall at the equator before he gave in to an impulse like this again.

She was dressed completely wrong, Charlotte realized as soon as Jason arrived. Not knowing what to wear, she’d chosen a navy blue suit, not unlike the one she’d worn to the office. She’d attempted to dress it up a bit with a bright turquoise-and-pink scarf and a quarter-size silver pin of a colorful toucan. Jason arrived in jeans, sweatshirt and a baseball cap with a University of Washington Huskies logo on it.

“Hello,” she said, forcing herself to smile. A hundred times in the last hour she’d regretted ever agreeing to this date. Jason had caught her off guard when he’d phoned. She hadn’t known what to say. Hadn’t had time to think of an excuse.

Now she was stuck, but judging by his expression, Jason didn’t seem any more pleased than she was. He frowned at her until she was so self-conscious, she suggested changing clothes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered, tucking the tips of his fingers into his back pockets. They definitely made a pair. He’d dressed like someone visiting the amusement park, and she looked like a student of Emily Post.

Charlotte was grateful that Carrie had gone to the library with a friend. The other mom was picking them up, but it would give Charlotte a convenient excuse to hurry home.

“Where would you like to eat?” Jason asked once they were outside the apartment.

“Wherever you want.”

“Mexican food?” He didn’t sound enthusiastic.

“Fine.” Especially since there was a restaurant close by. “How about Mr. Tamales on Old Military Road?”

“Sure,” he agreed easily enough. He was probably thinking the same thing she was. The sooner they got there, the sooner they’d be finished and could go back to their respective lives instead of dabbling in this nonsense.

For the short time they were together, Charlotte figured she might as well enjoy herself. The restaurant was little more than a greasy spoon, but the food had earned its excellent reputation.

The place apparently did a brisk business on week-nights because there was only one spot available.

“I never would’ve thought we’d need reservations,” Jason said, looking as surprised as Charlotte.

The hostess, wearing an off-the-shoulder peasant blouse and black skirt, smiled and escorted them to the booth. The waitress followed close behind. She handed them each a menu shaped like a cactus and then brought water, tortilla chips and salsa. Charlotte read over the choices, made her selection and scooped up a jalapeño pepper with a chip.

“You aren’t going to eat that, are you?” Jason asked, staring at her as if she’d pulled the pin activating a grenade.

Charlotte grinned. “Oh, that’s another thing I forgot to mention last night—women can eat chili peppers better than a man.”

“Not this time, sweetheart. I was weaned on hot peppers.” He took one, poising it in front of his mouth.

“Me, too,” she challenged.

They bit into the peppers simultaneously. The seeds and juice dribbled down Charlotte’s chin and she grabbed a paper napkin, dabbing it against her skin.

“You weren’t kidding,” Jason said, obviously impressed.

“I never kid.” A five-alarm fire was blazing in her mouth, but she smiled and reached casually for another chip and some water. The water intensified the burning, but she smiled cheerfully as though nothing was wrong.

“Rich and I used to eat these peppers right out of Dad’s garden.”

“I take it Rich is your brother?”

“I’m one of five,” Jason went on to explain, and she noted that his eyes brightened with pride. “Paul’s the oldest, then there’s me, followed by Rich. My sisters, Taylor and Christy, round out the family.”

“Are any of them married?”

“Everyone but me. I’m beginning to lose track of how many nieces and nephews I’ve got now, and there doesn’t seem to be a lull yet.”

Charlotte had never had much of a family. Her father had deserted her and her mother when Charlotte was too young to remember him. Then her mother had died just about the time Charlotte graduated from high school. The insurance money was set up to cover her college expenses. Only the money hadn’t been used for her. Instead, Tom had been educated on her inheritance; he’d robbed her of even that.

Charlotte lowered her gaze. It hurt too much to think about Tom and that bleak period of her life when she’d been so lost and vulnerable. So alone, with no family. Her ex-husband had used her and when he’d finished, he’d thrown her aside.

All the time she was growing up, Charlotte had dreamed about being part of a large, loving family. How she envied Jason his brothers and sisters.

“The story of my family tree is less about the roots,” he said, grinning as he spoke, “than the sap.”

Charlotte’s laugh was spontaneous. She picked up her water, warmed by his wit and his willingness to laugh at himself. “I was an only child. I promised myself I’d have a houseful of kids when I got married so my children wouldn’t grow up lonely.”

“Lonely,” Jason echoed. “I would have given anything for some peace and quiet. The girls were the worst.”

“Somehow I guessed you’d complain about the women in your family.”

“You know,” he said, “I never thought I’d say this, but I really miss Taylor and Christy. They’re both living in Montana now, raising their families. We get together when we can, which isn’t nearly often enough. It’s been over a year since we saw each other.”

The waitress came for their order. Charlotte asked for the specialty salad, which consisted of beans, rice, cheese, shredded chicken, lettuce and slices of tomato and jalapeño peppers. Jason chose the chicken enchiladas.

“Do your brothers live in the Seattle area?”

Jason nodded. “Paul’s a journalist and Rich works as an engineer for Boeing. We see each other frequently.”

Their orders arrived and they chatted amicably over their meal. Jason sampled her salad and fed her a bite of his enchiladas; both were delicious. Soon they’d asked the waitress for two additional plates and were unabashedly sharing their meals.

It was only seven-thirty when they’d finished, even though they lingered over coffee. Charlotte couldn’t remember time passing more quickly.

All day she’d been worried about this dinner—and for nothing. She’d enjoyed herself even more than she’d hoped, but that was easy to do with Jason. He didn’t put on airs or pretend to be something he wasn’t. Nor did he feign agreement with her; their differing opinions meant a free and interesting exchange of ideas.

“I should be heading home,” Charlotte said, although she could happily have sat there talking. They weren’t at a loss for topics, but the restaurant was busy and Carrie would be home soon.

“Yeah, I suppose we should go,” he said reluctantly, standing. He left a generous tip and took the tab up to the counter.

After talking nonstop for nearly an hour, both were strangely quiet on the drive home. Charlotte had been determined to enjoy herself from the start, but she’d expected to make the best of a bad situation. Instead she’d had a wonderful time.

She hadn’t known how starved she was for adult companionship, hadn’t realized how empty she’d felt inside, how deep the void had become.

As they neared the apartment complex, she realized one more thing. She didn’t want this evening to end.

“Would you like to come in for coffee?” she asked as he parked his car. For half the ride home, Charlotte had been engaging in a silent debate. She was sure that if Carrie was home, she’d make a big deal about Jason’s presence. But Charlotte would get the third degree from her daughter anyway, so she decided it didn’t matter if Jason came in.

“I could use another cup of coffee,” Jason told her, although they’d both had large mugs at the restaurant.

As luck would have it, Carrie wasn’t home yet. Charlotte had been counting on her teenage daughter to act as a buffer between her and Jason. She half suspected Jason was thinking the same thing.

“Carrie’s at the library with a friend,” she explained. “But I’m sure she’ll be back any minute.”

“I wondered what she was up to tonight.”

“I’ll put on the coffee,” she said self-consciously, going directly to the kitchen. “Make yourself at home.”

While she scooped up the grounds and poured water into the pot, she saw that Jason had lowered himself onto her sofa. He reached for a magazine and flipped through the pages, then set it back and reached for another. Since it was upside down, his attention was clearly elsewhere. He noted his mistake, righted the magazine, then placed it with the others. Apparently Seventeen magazine didn’t interest him after all.

There was no reason for him to be so nervous. It was funny; they’d chatted like old friends at the restaurant, but the instant they were alone, they became uncomfortable with each other.

“I thought you might like some cookies,” she said, as she carried the tray into the living room. She’d baked chocolate chip cookies that weekend, and there were plenty left over.

Being a single mother left her vulnerable to attacks of guilt—guilt that often led to an abundance of homemade cookies. There were so many things she didn’t know about family, so much she’d missed out on. It bothered her more than she wanted to admit. Whenever Charlotte was feeling anxious or contrite about something, she baked. And with the ninth-grade dance hanging over her head, she’d been doing a lot of baking lately. The cookie jar was full. The freezer was packed, too. Even Carrie was complaining about all the goodies around the house. Too tempting, she said. Her daughter claimed Charlotte was trying to raise her cholesterol and kill her off.

More guilt, more need to bake cookies. It was a vicious circle.

“Homemade cookies,” Jason said, sliding forward, far more appreciative than her daughter. “I didn’t know anyone but my mother baked these days.” He took one and downed it in two bites, nodding vigorously even before he’d finished chewing.

Charlotte smiled at the unspoken compliment and poured their coffee in plain white china cups. “There’s plenty more where those came from.”

Jason helped himself to a second and then a third.

Charlotte was pleased that he seemed to value her culinary skills. “I guess it’s true, then.”

He cocked one eyebrow. “What?”

“Never mind,” she muttered, sorry she’d brought up the subject.

“If you’re thinking the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, forget it. Others before you have tried that route.”

“Several dozen, no doubt,” she teased, amused by his complete lack of modesty. Not to mention his arrogance.

“I’ve suffered my share of feminine wiles.”

“Feminine wiles,” Charlotte repeated, trying hard not to laugh out loud. He acted as though she was setting a trap for him. She was about to reassure him that she had no intention of remarrying, then decided against it. She’d let him assume whatever he wanted. After all, he was helping her get rid of these cookies before they overran the apartment.

She did bring up another topic, though, one she couldn’t help being curious about. “Why aren’t you married?” She hoped he wouldn’t be offended by her directness; based on their previous conversations she didn’t expect him to be.

Jason shrugged and swallowed the last bite of the last cookie she’d set out. He seemed to be thinking over his response as he picked up his coffee and relaxed against the back of the sofa. “I learned something recently about the differences between a man and a woman. It’s information that’s served me well.”

They certainly had a routine going with this subject. “Oh, what’s that?”

“Tell me, all kidding aside,” he said, his blue eyes serious, “what is it women want from a man?”

Charlotte thought about that for a moment. “To be loved.”

He nodded approvingly.

“To be needed and respected.”

“Exactly.” He grinned, clearly pleased by her answer.

He was making this easy, and Charlotte warmed to her ideas. “A woman longs to be held, of course, but more than that, she wants to be treasured, appreciated.”

“Perfect,” Jason said, smiling benignly. “Now ask me what a man wants.”

“All right,” she said, crossing her legs, holding the saucer with one hand, her cup in the other. “What is it a man wants?”

“Tickets to the World Series,” Jason returned without a pause.

Charlotte nearly choked on her laughter. Fortunately she wasn’t swallowing a sip of coffee at the time. “I see what you mean,” she said after she’d composed herself. “There does seem to be a basic, shall we say, disconnect here.”

He nodded. “It was when Rich gave up two tickets for a Seahawks football game that I knew he’d fallen in love.”

“That’s sweet,” Charlotte said with a sigh, enjoying the romance of it all.

“Don’t go all soft on me. It wasn’t like it sounds. He gave the tickets to a friend as a bribe. Rich didn’t want to date Jamie himself, he wanted someone else to fall in love with her.”

“He bribed another guy to take her out?”

“Yup. He was in love with her himself, but like the rest of us, he’s useless when it comes to romance. I figured it out before he did, and I know next to nothing about that kind of stuff.” Jason grinned. “From that point on, it was all downhill for Rich. He’s married and has a couple of kids now. A girl and a boy.”

“I don’t care what you say. That’s sweet.”

“Perhaps.”

Charlotte was relaxed now. She removed her shoes and propped her feet on the coffee table, crossing her legs at the ankles. “Have you ever been in love?” At Jason’s hesitation, she hurried to add, “I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“I don’t mind, if you won’t take offense at my answer—which is, I don’t know. I thought I was once, several years back, but in retrospect I’m not sure. It hurt when we broke up, and I was sorry we hadn’t been able to work things out, but I don’t have any real regrets.”

“What was her name?”

“Julie. She’s married now.”

Charlotte didn’t understand where she found the courage, but she reached forward and brushed her index finger down the side of Jason’s face. She wanted to ease the pain she read in his expression, the pain he discounted so casually. A pain she recognized, since she’d walked through this valley herself, with the cold wind of despair howling at her back.

Jason’s gaze met hers and she felt immersed in a look so warm, so intense, that her breath caught. She couldn’t remember a man ever looking at her that way, as though he wasn’t sure she was even real. As if he was afraid she’d vanish if he touched her.

Jason removed the cup and saucer from her hands and set them on the tray next to the empty plate.

He was going to kiss her; she realized it in the same moment she owned up to how much she wanted him to. All night she’d been looking forward to having him do exactly this, only she hadn’t been willing to admit it.

His mouth was gentle and sweet with the taste of coffee and chocolate. He kissed her the way he had the night before, and Charlotte could barely take in the sensation that overwhelmed her. She’d never thought she’d feel anything so profound, so exciting, again. She hadn’t believed she was capable of such a rush of feeling….

She whimpered and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on to him in a world that had started to spin out of control. His hands framed her face and he slanted his mouth over hers, answering her need with his own.

Jason kissed her again and again.

The sound coming from the front door barely registered in her passion-drugged brain.

“Mom … Jason …” was followed by a shocked pause, then, “Wow, this is great.”

Charlotte broke away from Jason and leapt to her feet.

“Gee, Mom, there’s no need to get embarrassed. People kiss all the time.” Carrie floated across the carpet, then threw herself into a chair. “So,” she said, smiling broadly, “is there anything either of you want to tell me?”

“Like what?” Charlotte asked.

Carrie shrugged with utter nonchalance. “That you’re getting married?”

Four

On his way back to his apartment, Jason had to admit that Charlotte’s daughter possessed a knack for the unexpected. Arriving when she did was only the beginning; introducing the subject of marriage had nearly sent him into hysterics.

Him married? It was downright laughable.

Thinking about it, Jason realized Charlotte had brought up the subject herself, wanting to know why he hadn’t married, asking him if he’d ever been in love. Typical women questions.

Perhaps mother and daughter were in cahoots, plotting his downfall. No, that was equally laughable.

Jason simply wasn’t the marrying kind. Not because he was a womanizer or because he had anything against the opposite sex. He liked women … at times, enjoyed being with them … occasionally. Liked kissing them … definitely. But he relished his freedom too much to sacrifice it to commitment and responsibility.

No, he told himself resolutely, Charlotte wasn’t involved in any scheme to drag him to the altar. She’d been so embarrassed and flustered by Carrie’s suggestion, her face had gone bright red. The woman’s face was too open to hide her feelings. She had chastised Carrie, asked for and received an apology, and looked genuinely grateful when Jason said it was time he left.

Despite the episode with Carrie, Jason had thoroughly enjoyed his evening with Charlotte. He hadn’t expected to. In fact he’d originally regretted having asked her out, but in the end their date had been a pleasant success.

Once again he was bewildered by the strong desire he experienced when he kissed her. He had ordained a hands-off policy for the night, but had shelved that idea the minute she’d sat next to him, gazing up at him with those pretty eyes of hers.

Actually, he’d known he was in trouble when he accepted her invitation to come inside for coffee. He’d thought of it as a challenge; he’d wanted to see how far he could push his determination. Not far, he concluded. When she’d looked at him, her eyes soft and inviting, he was lost. His hands-off policy had quickly become a hands-on experiment.

There was something about Charlotte Weston that got to him. Really got to him.

All that outward confidence she worked so hard to display hadn’t fooled him. Beneath a paper-thin veneer, she was vulnerable. Any fool with two functional brain cells would have figured that out on the first date.

Only she didn’t date.

Carrie had told him it’d been years since her mother had even gone out with a man. Undoubtedly she’d been asked—and if she hadn’t been, why not? She was attractive, intelligent and fun. Offhand, he knew a half-dozen men who’d jump at the chance to meet a woman like Charlotte.

If she’d turned down offers, and surely she had, then there must be a reason. The question that confused Jason was: If she didn’t date, then why had she agreed to have dinner with him?

Probably the same reason that had goaded him to ask, Jason concluded. The kiss. That infamous first kiss. It had rocked them both. Taken them by surprise, leaving them excited—and unsure.

As for the other questions that hounded him, Jason didn’t have any answers. Nor did he understand everything that was happening between him and Charlotte. One thing he did know—and it terrified him the most—was that they were, in effect, playing with lighted sticks of dynamite, tossing them back and forth. The attraction between them was that explosive. That dangerous.

Carrie’s arrival had been more timely than she’d realized.

All right, Jason was willing to own up, albeit grudgingly, that he was fascinated with Charlotte. He suspected she’d confess to feeling the same thing. To his way of thinking, if they were so strongly attracted to each other, they should both be prepared to do something about it.

In other words, they should stop fighting the inevitable and make love. That would get it out of their system—he hoped.

Naw, Jason mused darkly. Charlotte wasn’t the kind of woman who’d indulge in an affair. She might wear only straight, dark business suits to work, but deep down she was the romantic type, which made her impractical. Most women seemed to be. If they were going to make love, they wanted it prettied up with a bunch of flowery words, a declaration of undying love and promises of commitment.

Well, Charlotte, along with every other woman, could forget that, he told himself. As far as he was concerned, romance and commitment were out of the question.

What he wanted in this relationship was honesty. If it were up to him, he’d suggest they do away with the formalities, admit what they wanted and then scratch that itch.

He mulled that over for a few minutes, knowing it was unlikely that Charlotte would see the situation his way. He might not know her well, but Jason readily acknowledged that she wasn’t going to be satisfied with so little. Women tended to see lovemaking as more than just the relief of a physical craving.

Well, he, for one, wasn’t going to play that game. He liked Charlotte—how much he liked her surprised him—but he knew the rules. Either they dropped everything now, while they still could, or they continued driving each other insane. Sooner or later, one of them would have to give in.

Without a second’s hesitation, Jason knew it would be him.

Charlotte affected him deep down. He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her or causing her one second of unhappiness. In the end he’d say all the words she wanted to hear, and he’d do the best job he could, because pleasing her would mean so much to him.

Then he’d get what he wanted; she’d make love to him willingly, with everything in her. He’d give her all he had, too. The problem was—and he knew it was inevitable—that before he’d quite figured out what was happening, they’d be talking about marriage, which was something he hadn’t done since Julie.

Jason stopped right there. If he started thinking along those lines, everything would change. Soon Charlotte would be organizing his life, straightening up his apartment, making suggestions about little things he could do to improve his sorry lot. Women always saw his lot as sorry. He was happy living the way he was, but women couldn’t accept that. They didn’t believe a man could survive without them constantly fussing over him, dictating his life.

Bit by bit, Charlotte would dominate his world, eroding his independence until he was like every other married man he’d ever known—willing to change his ways for a wife. Picking up his socks, getting hassled about sports games on TV, the whole deal.

No, the domesticated life wasn’t for him. Still, Charlotte tempted him more than anyone else had in ages, and he could almost imagine their lives together. Not quite, but almost.

He stared at his apartment door, wondering how long he’d been standing there mulling over his thoughts. He was light years ahead of himself, he realized. Good grief, he was already trying to finagle his way out of marrying her and they’d only gone out on one date. He’d only kissed her twice.

But, oh, those kisses …

Like he’d told himself before, they were playing with explosives, and the best way to avoid getting hurt was to get out now, before they became too involved. Before he lost the strength to walk away from her.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” Carrie demanded.

“About what?” Charlotte returned calmly, feigning ignorance. She glanced up from her novel, looking over the rims of her reading glasses with practiced innocence.

“Jason!” Carrie cried. “You haven’t heard from him in a whole week.”

“Has it been that long?” Seven days, two hours and three minutes, but who was counting? Certainly not her.

“Mom,” Carrie insisted, hands on her hips, “you know how long it’s been. You jump every time the phone rings. You keep making excuses about checking the mail and getting the newspaper. We both know you’re hoping to run into Jason.”

It hurt Charlotte’s pride to learn she’d been so obvious.

“You like him, don’t you?” Carrie asked. Her expression said that if she were in charge, this romance would be making far greater progress. Charlotte, however, had no intention of letting her daughter take control of her relationship with Jason Manning.

“I think Jason’s wonderful,” Charlotte admitted softly. She did like her landlord. Yet, at the same time, she was grateful he hadn’t taken the initiative and contacted her again. If he had, she wasn’t sure how she would’ve responded.

“If you’re so crazy about him, then do something about it,” Carrie said again.

“Like what?” Even if Charlotte had a drawerful of ideas, she doubted she’d ever find the courage to use any of them. She didn’t know how to chase after a man and had no interest in doing so.

“You’re asking me?” Carrie asked. “C’mon, who’s the kid here?” She launched herself onto the cushion beside Charlotte. “What went wrong?” she asked, looking up at her mother with mournful eyes. “The two of you seemed to be getting along really well when I walked in last week.”

Charlotte slid her arm around Carrie’s shoulders. Despite her efforts not to, she grinned, remembering when she, too, had been so wise and confident.

“It might’ve had something to do with the subject of marriage—which you brought up. He seemed to get a bit green around the gills at that point.”

“You think it frightened him off?” Carrie asked anxiously.

Charlotte shrugged. She’d brought up the subject herself, not quite as directly, but she had mentioned it. If ever there was a born bachelor, she decided, it was Jason Manning. Together, mother and daughter had managed to terrify the man. He must think they were sitting in their apartment ready to ambush him, tie him up and drag him in front of the closest preacher.

Charlotte wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore. Perhaps she was protecting her ego by convincing herself that she wouldn’t have gone out with Jason if he’d asked again. Perhaps it was just her pride. Charlotte didn’t know because the opportunity hadn’t come up.

She was embarrassed to admit it, but what Carrie had said about her hanging around the mailbox hoping to accidentally run into Jason was true. But she wasn’t looking for a way to get him to ask her out, she told herself. She only wanted to set things straight. Since they hadn’t met, accidentally or otherwise, Charlotte was content to let it drop. He apparently was, too.

Jason Manning had been a brief but pleasant interlude in her—she had to acknowledge it—humdrum life.

She was grateful for their time together. He’d taught her everything she needed to know about basketball. He’d challenged her in a battle of wits about male and female roles in society. Convinced her never again to eat a jalapeño pepper to prove a point. And most important, he’d kissed her in a way that made her believe, for those few minutes, that she was whole and desirable. It’d felt so good to surrender her fears and her doubts. If nothing else, she’d always be grateful for that.

“Maybe he’s waiting to hear from you,” Carrie said next. “It’s your turn to ask him out, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t work that way with adults, sweetie.” Although Charlotte had no idea if that was even true.

“Then it should. I’m not going to sit home and wait for a man to call me. If I like him, I’ll phone him. It’s ridiculous to be a slave to such an outdated tradition.”

Charlotte agreed with her daughter, but in this instance she planned to do nothing at all. And that included hovering around the mailboxes.

It had been a long day, and Jason was tired when he pulled into the parking lot outside his apartment complex. He scanned the limited spaces, looking for Charlotte’s car. The blue PT Cruiser was in the appropriate slot, so he knew she was home.

It wasn’t that he was trying to run into her, but he wouldn’t mind seeing her, finding out how she was doing—that sort of thing. He didn’t intend anything more than a wave and maybe a friendly “I’m-fine-how-are-you?” exchange. Then he’d go about his business and she could go about hers.

Not calling Charlotte was proving to be more difficult than he’d ever expected. He thought about her even more now. He dreamed about her. Just that morning, the alarm had gone off and he was lying there in bed, trying to force himself to get up, when Charlotte casually sauntered into his mind. He couldn’t help thinking how good it would feel to have her there beside him, how soft her body would feel next to his. He’d banished the thought immediately, angry about indulging in such a fantasy.

It had started the night before. When he’d arrived home from work, he’d found himself checking out the rear tire of Charlotte’s car. From a distance it looked like it might be low on air. On closer examination, he realized it wasn’t. He felt almost disappointed not to have an excuse to speak to her.

This evening he could tell from a distance that there wasn’t anything wrong with her tires. Once again he wished there was, so he could talk to her.

Inside his apartment, he reached for the remote control and automatically turned on the television. The six-thirty news crew made for excellent company.

As the forecaster gave dire warnings about the weather, Jason checked out the meager contents of his refrigerator. One of these days he’d have to break down and buy groceries.

As he suspected, nothing interesting presented itself, at least nothing he’d seriously consider eating. An empty cardboard carton from a six-pack of beer. A can of half-eaten pork and beans. A leftover taco, probably harder than cement, wrapped in a napkin, and a jar of green olives. He opened the jar, stuck his hand inside and fished out the last two, returning the container of liquid to the shelf. Chewing on the olives, he closed the door.

What he was really in the mood for was—he hated to admit it. What he’d really like was chocolate chip cookies. Well, he could forget that. The store-bought ones tasted like lumpy paste, and his mother would keep him on the phone with an endless list of questions if he were to call her and request a batch. Besides, it wasn’t his mother’s recipe he craved. It was Charlotte’s.

Well, you can forget that, ol’ boy.

A box of macaroni and cheese was the most interesting prospect his cupboard had to offer. He took it out and checked the freezer compartment of the refrigerator and brought out two frozen wieners wrapped in aluminum foil.

He was adding water to a pan when there was a frantic knocking on his door. Whoever it was pounded again before he had time to cross the apartment.

He saw Charlotte, pale and stricken, her lavender cardigan covered in blood. Her eyes were panicky. “A dog … someone ran over a dog … they didn’t even stop. Please … can you come?”

“Of course.” He kept a black bag at the house for just such emergencies. He grabbed that and hurried after her.

Charlotte was waiting for him, her eyes bright with tears. “He’s unconscious.”

“You moved him?”

“Only to get him out of the street.”

“Did you see it happen?” he asked, trotting along behind her.

“No. I heard tires screech and a yelp, and that was it. By the time I got outside, a few kids had gathered around, but no one knew what to do.”

Her pace slowed as they approached the injured animal. A group of neighborhood children had gathered around. Jason knelt beside the small, black dog. He was a mixed breed, mostly spaniel, Jason guessed. He was badly hurt and in shock. Probably a stray, since he wasn’t wearing a collar, and the poor thing looked mangy and thin.

“Does anyone know who he belongs to?” Jason asked.

“I don’t think he belongs to anyone,” a boy on a bicycle answered. “He’s been around the last couple of days. I never saw him before that.”

“I’m going to take him to my office,” Jason said after a preliminary examination. He didn’t feel too positive about the dog’s chances.

“Is he going to live?” Charlotte alone voiced the question, but she seemed to be the spokesperson for the small gathering—each one wanted, indeed needed, to know. The children and Charlotte stared down at Jason, waiting for his response.

“I’m not sure,” Jason answered honestly. “He’s got a broken leg and internal injuries.”

“I’ll pay for his medical expenses,” Charlotte offered, using her index finger to wipe a tear from her eye.

Jason wasn’t even thinking about the expenses. Frankly, he didn’t think the dog would last the night. “Give me your sweater,” he told Charlotte. Since it was already stained with blood, he figured they’d save time by using it to transport the injured dog.

She did as he asked, and he spread it out on the pavement, then placed the wounded dog on it. Jason carefully lifted him, using the sweater sleeves, and walked toward his car.

“I’ll go with you,” Charlotte said, while Jason placed the now-unconscious dog in the backseat.

“You’re sure?” he asked. “This could take some time.”

“I’m sure.” Carrie came running up to the car. The girl had tears in her eyes, too. Mother and daughter briefly hugged before Carrie stepped away. She looked so mournful it was all Jason could do not to stop and reassure her. But he had no reassurances to offer.

His veterinary clinic was only a few blocks from the apartment complex. Charlotte followed him in. He set the injured dog on the stainless-steel examination table and turned on the lights above it. Charlotte’s sweater was soaked with blood beyond the point of salvaging it, but she didn’t seem concerned.

Jason examined the dog’s injuries and it was as he’d feared: surgery would be required.

He told Charlotte and she nodded bravely. “Can I do anything? I’m not a nurse, but I’d like to assist—that is, if you think I’d be any help?”

Jason hesitated, uncertain, then decided. “You can if you really want to.”

She nodded. “Please.”

“You don’t have to,” he said. This wasn’t going to be pretty and if she was the least bit squeamish, it would be better to sit out in the waiting room. He told her as much.

“I want to,” she said confidently. “I can handle it.”

Jason didn’t take long to set up everything he needed for the surgery. They both scrubbed down and he gave her a green surgical cap and gown. He smiled at her before administering the anesthesia, taking pains to explain what he was doing and why.

The procedure didn’t last more than an hour. When he’d finished, he transferred the dog to the hospital portion of his facility. There was a night-time staff member who’d watch over the spaniel and the other pets who required continuous care.

“What do you think?” she asked hopefully when he returned.

“It doesn’t look promising,” Jason told her. He didn’t want to give her any false hopes or mislead her. “But he might surprise us. He’s only a couple of years old and he’s got a strong heart. The next twenty-four hours will be critical. If he survives until tomorrow night, then he should do okay. But he’s going to need a lot of attention and love afterward.”

“Carrie and I will make sure he gets it. Can we come see him?” She paused. “Do veterinary hospitals have visiting hours?”

“You can come anytime you like.” He sighed and rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. He was tired and hungry.

“You were wonderful….” She seemed to sense his worry and exhaustion.

“Let’s decide that in the morning.”

“If Higgins lives, we’ll owe everything to you.”

“Higgins?”

“I thought it was a good name. Do you like it?”

He shrugged. He was too tired and too hungry to have much of an opinion on anything at the moment.

“You haven’t had dinner, have you?” she surprised him by asking.

“No. How’d you know that?”

“You look hungry.”

“That’s because I am. You want to grab something?” he asked as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She smiled. “Only this time I’ll treat.”

“Charlotte …”

“I insist. Please don’t argue.”

He didn’t have the energy to protest, so he simply agreed. Since she was buying, he let her choose the restaurant. She decided on a nearby sandwich shop. He breathed in the scent of freshly baked bread as soon as he walked in the door.

It was the type of place where customers seated themselves and the silverware was wrapped in a red checkered napkin. The waitress, who looked all of sixteen, took their order, and promptly brought coffee. She came back a few minutes later with six-inch-high sandwiches, layered with sliced turkey, ham, roast beef, lettuce, tomato slices and onion.

“How have you been?” he asked casually after wolfing down the first half of his sandwich.

“Until the accident tonight I was just fine,” Charlotte told him, her eyes flitting away from his. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m usually not so emotional, but seeing that poor little dog on the road bleeding and hurt like that really got to me.”

“It gets to me, too.” The sight of an innocent animal suffering never failed to disturb Jason, although he saw it time and time again. The helplessness of the situation, the complete disregard for life that a hit-and-run accident revealed, angered him.

“I’m so glad you were home,” Charlotte said, keeping her gaze lowered. “I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”

“I’m glad I was there, too.” He reached across the table, taking her hand, linking their fingers. Her skin was smooth and soft, just the way he remembered.

His eyes sought hers. He smiled and she smiled back. Jason felt ridiculously, unreasonably pleased that they were together. For days he’d been fighting it, and now that they were together, he felt foolish for having put up such a struggle. He should quit worrying about the future, he told himself. Live for the moment. Wasn’t that what all the self-help books said? One day at a time. One kiss at a time.

After what seemed like an eternity, Charlotte dragged her eyes from his.

“How about dessert?” he asked.

Charlotte picked up the menu and read over the limited selection.

“I was thinking more along the lines of homemade chocolate chip cookies,” Jason said.

“They don’t seem to have … Oh, you mean mine?” She raised eyes as blue as a summer sky.

He nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve reconsidered. It’s true.” His voice sounded slightly hoarse and, if he didn’t know better, seductive.

“What is?”

“The way to my heart takes a direct route through my stomach.”

“Oh.” She blinked as if he’d caught her off guard. She was beautiful, he realized all over again. So gentle and caring. He’d missed her, yet he’d tried to convince himself otherwise, and had been doing a good job of it, too—too good, in fact.

The world seemed to stop. Jason knew his breathing did. He felt as if he were drowning in her eyes. He would’ve liked to blame it on how tired he was, but he’d only be lying to himself.

“You like softball?” he found himself asking next.

She nodded, obviously trying to keep her eyes averted from his. Apparently she was having a difficult time of it, because whenever their eyes met, it would be several moments before she looked away.

“I understand softball, more than basketball at any rate,” she said, sounding slightly breathless.

“My brothers and I play on a team Saturday mornings. Do you and Carrie want to come and watch this weekend?”

Charlotte nodded.

“Good.”

They were both silent on the way home. Jason knew he was going to kiss her again. He couldn’t imagine not kissing her again.

Charlotte must have read his intentions, because her hand was on the car door the minute he shut off the engine. She reminded him of a trapped bird, eager to escape, and yet she didn’t move.

His hand on her shoulder turned her toward him. His heart tripped wildly as she leaned toward him. He felt sure her heart was pounding as furiously as his.

Slowly, so slowly he wondered if he was dreaming it, Charlotte swayed closer. He lowered his mouth to hers. Jason wanted this kiss, wanted it more than he could remember wanting anything. It’d been over a week since he’d seen her and it felt like a lifetime. A thousand lifetimes.

Charlotte’s hands were braced against his chest as he kissed her again, deeper, more fully. Again he kissed her, and again. Finally she broke away.

“Stop,” she pleaded. The words were breathless and he could feel her shudder.

Reluctantly, Jason pulled back. Their eyes met again, and for the second time that night, Jason had the feeling she was frightened, although he didn’t understand why. Wanting to comfort her, he traced a knuckle down the curve of her cheek.

“Carrie will be worried,” she said.

He said nothing.

“I can’t thank you enough. For saving Higgins. The dog.”

Again Jason said nothing.

“Jason,” she whispered. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to kiss me again.”

“I do.” He wasn’t going to lie about it.

He saw that her hand was shaking as she opened the car door and climbed out. She seemed eager to make her escape now.

“Good night,” she said with obvious false cheer.

“Little coward,” Jason muttered under his breath, amused. “Saturday morning!” he shouted after her.

“What time?” She turned to face him again.

“Nine-thirty. Is that too early?”

“I’ll be ready.”

“I’ll call you in the morning about Higgins.”

“Please,” she said, her eyes widening as though she’d momentarily forgotten the dog. “Oh, please do.” She snapped open her purse and withdrew a business card, walking toward him now. “This is my number at the office. I’ll be there after nine.”

“Then I’ll phone at nine.”

“‘Night.”

“‘Night,” he echoed, returning to his apartment.

He wasn’t there more than five minutes when his doorbell chimed. He certainly wasn’t in the mood for company, but as the building owner and manager, he couldn’t very well ignore a visitor.

He opened his door to discover Carrie standing on the other side, a covered plastic bowl in her hand. “These are for you.”

He accepted the container with a puzzled frown.

“Mom asked me to bring you some chocolate chip cookies,” she said, grinning broadly.

Five

“Mom, you look fine.”

“I don’t look fine … I look wretched,” Charlotte insisted, viewing her backside in the hallway mirror. She must’ve been mad to let Carrie talk her into buying jeans. Fashionably faded jeans, no less. Not only had she plunked down ninety bucks for the pair, they looked as if they’d spent the past ten years in someone’s attic.

“You’re acting like a little kid,” Carrie said, slapping her hands against her sides in disgust. “We’re going to a softball game, not the senior prom.”

“Why didn’t you tell me my thighs are so … round?” Charlotte cried in despair. “No woman wants to be seen in pants that make her legs look like hot dogs. I’m not going anywhere.”

Carrie just rolled her eyes.

“Call Jason,” Charlotte told her daughter. “Tell him … anything. Make up some excuse.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Please do as I say.”

“Mom?”

“We’re meeting his family,” Charlotte cried. “I can’t meet his brothers and sisters-in-law looking like this.”

“Change clothes, then, if you’re so self-conscious.”

As though she had anything to change into. Charlotte’s wardrobe was limited to business suits and sweatpants. There was no in-between. She couldn’t afford to clothe both of them in expensive jeans. But after Jason had invited her out for today, she’d allowed Carrie to talk her into a shopping spree. Thank heaven for Visa. And thank heaven for Jason’s generosity; he’d refused to accept any payment for the dog’s care.

“I’m not calling Jason!” Carrie crossed her arms righteously. The girl had a streak of stubbornness a mile wide, and Charlotte had collided with it more than once.

Defeated, Charlotte muttered under her breath and fled to her room, sitting on the end of her bed. Before the shopping trip, she’d managed to put today’s plans out of her mind and focus her attention on Higgins. Then the softball game had turned into the better part of a day, including a picnic, involving most of his family.

“Mom,” Carrie said, approaching her carefully. “What’s wrong?”

Charlotte shrugged, not sure how to explain her nervousness. “I wish I’d never agreed to this.”

“But why?” Carrie wanted to know. “I’ve been looking forward to it all week. Just think of all the babysitting prospects. Jason’s family is a potential gold mine for me.” Carrie sat on the bed beside Charlotte. “We’re going, aren’t we?”

Charlotte nodded. She was overreacting, and she knew it. After shelling out ninety bucks she was wearing those jeans, no matter how they made her look.

“Good,” Carrie said, leaping excitedly to her feet. “I’ve got the picnic basket packed. Honestly, Mom, we’re bringing so much food, we could open a concession stand.”

“I didn’t want to run short.” Charlotte didn’t bother denying that she’d packed enough to feed Jason’s entire family. A fruit-and-cheese plate, sandwiches, potato salad, a batch of chocolate chip cookies and a variety of other goodies she’d thrown in at the last minute.

Jason had casually mentioned the picnic the day before, when she’d gone to the hospital to visit Higgins. The dog was just beginning to respond to them. He was recovering slowly, but according to Jason, they’d be able to bring him home within a week. Charlotte soon discovered that visiting her new dog was a dual-edged sword. Every time she was at the veterinary hospital, she ran into Jason. Usually they had a cup of coffee together and talked; once he’d suggested dinner and Charlotte hadn’t been able to dredge up a single excuse not to join him. He’d even taken her and Carrie to a movie. Now she was meeting his family, and it terrified her.

Ten minutes later, as Charlotte was rearranging their picnic basket to find room for a tablecloth and paper napkins, Jason arrived.

Carrie answered the door and directed him to the kitchen.

“Jason’s here,” she said unnecessarily.

“Hi.” Charlotte greeted him nervously, turning around, a tense smile on her face. She was watching him carefully, wanting to read his expression when he saw her in the tight jeans.

“Hi, I was just—” He stopped abruptly, letting whatever he meant to say fade into nothingness. He stood before her, his mouth dangling open. Slowly his eyes widened.

With appreciation.

At least she thought it was appreciation. She prayed that was what it was, and not disgust or shock or any of the emotions she’d endured that morning.

“I … I’ve got everything ready.” She rubbed her suddenly damp hands down her thighs. “Carrie says I’ve packed too much food, but I don’t think so. I hope you like cantaloupe, because I just added one.” She knew she was chattering aimlessly, but couldn’t seem to stop.

“You look … fabulous.”

“I do?” Charlotte hated how uncertain she sounded.

Jason nodded as though he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off her long enough to play ball, which had to be the nicest compliment he’d ever paid her.

“Carrie talked me into buying the jeans,” she mumbled, tossing the napkins on top of the heap and closing the lid as far as it would go.

“Remind me to thank her.”

He didn’t say any more, just reached for the basket and brought it out to the car. Charlotte was so relieved, she wanted to weep with gratitude. Her spirits lifted—more than lifted—they soared as she and Carrie followed him. Carrie climbed in the backseat as Charlotte got in the front, hoping her jeans wouldn’t split.

The ball field was several miles away, near the Southcenter shopping mall. Charlotte was grateful to Carrie for carrying the conversation. Thrilled with the outing, the girl had plenty to say.

Charlotte had never been to this park before, and when she saw it she was astonished she hadn’t heard of it. It had several baseball diamonds, and an equal number of soccer fields. The Green River intersected the park, with several footbridges spanning its banks.

“I didn’t mention I was bringing anyone,” Jason told her after he’d parked the car. “Everyone’s going to ask you a bunch of embarrassing questions. Do you mind?”

“No,” she answered, having trouble meeting his eyes. “Don’t worry about it.” She was a big girl—she could deal with a bit of curiosity.

“I don’t usually bring someone.”

Charlotte stiffened, not because she was timid or dreaded the questions, but because it confirmed something she’d rather not deal with right then. Jason was attracted to her. As attracted as she was to him.

What did bring fear to her heart was that he might be taking their time together seriously—that he might really start to care for her. That would be disastrous. You care for him, her heart reminded her. Yes, but that was different.

Kissing was all they’d done; it was all Charlotte had allowed. A few innocent kisses didn’t amount to much. Or did they?

“Uncle Jase!” Two boys—Charlotte guessed they were seven or eight—raced across the green lawn toward Jason. One glance told her the pair were identical twins.

“Hello, boys,” Jason said with a wide smile.

They stopped abruptly when they noticed Charlotte and Carrie, their eyes huge and questioning. Suspicious.

“These are my friends, Charlotte and Carrie,” Jason said, motioning toward them.

“They’re girls,” one of the pair muttered.

“I noticed that myself,” a tall, athletic man said as he strode toward them. He was wearing the same uniform as Jason. Charlotte didn’t need an introduction to know this was his brother.

“This is Paul, my oldest brother,” Jason said, tucking a couple of baseball bats under his arm, along with his mitt. The task appeared to demand a great deal of attention.

In the next five minutes, Charlotte was introduced to Leah, Paul’s wife, who was five months pregnant and chasing after a toddler named Kelsey. Jason’s younger brother, Rich, his wife, Jamie, and their two children, Bethany and Jeremy, arrived shortly afterward, and there was another series of introductions.

Charlotte’s head was spinning with all the names and faces. Everyone was friendly and helpful. Openly curious, too. Carrie, who loved children, was delighted when Rich’s daughter wanted to sit in the bleachers with her.

The men were on the diamond warming up when Jamie sat next to Charlotte. Leah joined them, sitting on her other side. Charlotte smiled from one to the other. Their curiosity was almost visible. As the silence lengthened Charlotte frantically sorted through a number of possible topics, but try as she might, the most inventive thing she could think of was the weather.

Oh, what the heck, she decided. “I imagine you’re curious about me,” she said. After the morning she’d had, she wasn’t up to a game of Twenty Questions.

“We didn’t mean to be so blatant about it,” Leah, the shorter of the two, murmured. She had one of the nicest smiles Charlotte had ever seen.

“You weren’t,” Charlotte lied.

“Yes, we were,” Jamie said with a laugh. “We can’t help it.”

“Ask away,” Charlotte invited.

“How long have you known Jason?” Rich’s wife asked without hesitation.

Charlotte found Jamie Manning to be a study in contrasts. Rich, Jamie’s husband, was probably one of the best-looking men she’d ever seen. Definitely GQ material. Yet, at first glance, his wife seemed rather plain. Charlotte soon learned how misleading first impressions could be. Five minutes with Jamie, and Charlotte was awed by her radiance. She had an inner glow that touched those around her.

“I met Jason about a year ago,” Charlotte answered, when she realized both women were staring at her, waiting for her response. “My daughter and I live in one of his apartments.”

“A year,” Jamie repeated, leaning forward so she could exchange a wide-eyed look with Leah. “Did you hear that? He’s known her a whole year.”

Charlotte felt she should explain further. “Actually, I met him a year ago, but we’ve only recently started to, uh, know each other.”

“I see.” Once again it was Leah who spoke, wearing a subtle smile as though she was amused and trying to disguise it.

“You’ll have to forgive us for acting so surprised, but Jason doesn’t usually bring anyone with him on Saturdays,” Leah elaborated.

“Or any other day for that matter,” Jamie added.

“So I understand. I … I take it he doesn’t date often?” Charlotte asked. In some ways she was hoping they’d tell her he went through women like water. But in her heart she knew it wasn’t true. If anything, it was just the opposite. Charlotte didn’t want to hear that, either, didn’t want to know she was special, because it made everything so much more difficult.

“Let’s put it this way,” Jamie answered, crossing her legs and resting her elbows on her knees. “We’ve been coming out here for what, two, three summers now, and this is the first time Jason’s ever brought a woman.”

Charlotte drew in a slow, deep breath.

“I don’t remember Jason bringing a woman to any family function, ever,” Leah said, looking positively delighted. Her eyes sparkled. “I’d say it was about time, wouldn’t you, Jamie?”

“About time, indeed,” Leah’s sister-in-law said with a grin.

From his position on the diamond, Jason could see his two sisters-in-law on either side of Charlotte. No doubt they were pumping her for information, wanting to know every minute detail of their relationship. The distance was too great for him to be able to read Charlotte’s expression.

If he had half a brain, he would’ve realized what he was doing before he invited her to join him. Why had he asked Charlotte to this game? Clearly he needed his head examined. Only an idiot would thrust a lamb like Charlotte into a pack of hounds without warning.

He’d told her his family would probably be curious about her, but he’d said it casually in the parking lot after they’d arrived. It wasn’t like he’d given her much advance warning.

His family was far too nosy. By the end of the afternoon, Charlotte would be so sick of answering questions, she’d never want to go out with him again.

He pitched the ball to Paul with enough force to make his oldest brother remove his mitt, shake his hand and cast Jason an odd look.

Jason was angry. But it wasn’t the way Leah and Jamie had surrounded Charlotte that had set him off. He’d had no business inviting Charlotte and Carrie to this game. For one thing, they were playing the league leaders and likely to be soundly defeated. If he was going to ask someone to come and watch him play ball, it should be against a team that’d make him look good, not like a bunch of fools. The outcome could prove to be downright embarrassing.

Not only were they likely to get their butts kicked, but Charlotte was going to spend the entire time being interrogated. First by Jamie and Leah, and then, when the game was over, by his brothers. They wouldn’t be subtle about it, either. The first woman he’d cared about in years was going to come away thinking his family had been trained by the CIA.

Even now, Jason wasn’t sure what had prompted him to ask Charlotte to come. But he certainly remembered the night he’d done it….

They’d been sitting in the car outside the apartment the night of Higgins’s surgery. She’d been shaken by the accident, struggling to hide how much. He had known when he dropped her off that he was going to kiss her again. She’d known it, too. His lips had brushed hers. Lightly. Briefly. He had sensed she was still frightened—of him? Of their mutual passion? Of her own desires? Until she was at ease with him, he was content to proceed slowly. He’d never indulged in any kisses more sensual or seductive than those he’d shared with Charlotte.

He could tell she was a novice when it came to lovemaking. That surprised him because she’d been married. He’d never asked about her ex-husband, preferring to wait until she was comfortable enough to talk about it on her own. But from what Carrie had told him the day she’d come to his office, the marriage had been short and disastrous.

Jason was convinced Charlotte hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed their kissing sessions. How much holding her satisfied him. How she left him feeling dizzy with need.

The same magic that had made him kiss her that night had encouraged him to risk inviting her to the ball game. Only now did he understand what he’d done. He’d dragged Charlotte into an impossible situation. Carrie, too. He was glad they were with him, but he wished he’d thought of some other way of introducing Charlotte and her daughter to his family. Some other time, when he’d be at her side to ward off their curiosity.

“Jase!” Rich’s voice shot past his ear two seconds after a ball nearly creamed the side of his head.

Stunned, Jason took two steps backward.

“What’s wrong with you?” Rich demanded furiously.

“You mean you don’t know?” Paul shouted from the shortstop position. He looked pointedly toward the stands. “It seems to me that he’s met his Waterloo.”

After nearly getting his head knocked off by a fly ball, Jason focused his concentration on the game, which to his surprise wasn’t going badly. Every now and then he could hear a high-pitched shout, which he’d like to think came from Charlotte. By the end of the seventh inning the score was tied.

Jason came to bat at the bottom of the ninth. The all-important ninth inning. The score remained tied and there were already two outs. Either he pulled off a hit or they were going into extra innings.

Charlotte was sitting in the stands almost directly behind him. He set the bat over his shoulder and eyed the pitcher. The first pitch was a fast ball and Jason swung, determined to hit it out of the field. More to the point, he was hoping not to be embarrassed in front of Charlotte.

He heard the cracking of the wood against the ball and he dropped the bat, then started running as though his life depended on making it to first base. It wasn’t until he got there that he realized he’d hit a home run. He felt jubilant as he rounded the bases.

He cast his eyes toward the bleachers to find Charlotte on her feet, cheering and clapping. Her face was bright with excitement. In all his life, Jason had never felt such elation.

He crossed home plate and didn’t stop. His brothers, his whole team, stared at him as he trotted behind the protective barrier between home plate and the viewing stands and headed straight for Charlotte. Excitedly, she launched herself into his arms.

Jason grabbed her around her waist, lifted her from the bleachers and swung her down. Her eyes shone with happiness and Jason thought he’d never seen a more beautiful woman.

Charlotte threw back her head and laughed. It wasn’t for several minutes that Jason was even aware of the crowd that had gathered around them.

A bit self-conscious now, he lowered Charlotte to the ground, but kept his arm around her. Paul and Rich were the first to congratulate him, followed by several other teammates, who slapped him heartily on the back. One suggested Jason bring Charlotte again, since she was definitely his good-luck charm.

“You were wonderful,” Charlotte said, smiling at him proudly. Jason found it difficult to pull his gaze away. The urge to kiss her was so strong, he had to fight to restrain himself. He would’ve done it, too, would’ve kissed her in front of everyone and ignored the consequences, if only his brothers hadn’t been present. He held back more to protect Charlotte from embarrassment than to ward off any razzing he’d get from his family.

“I’m hungry,” Ryan, one of the twins, announced once the excitement had died down. “When are we gonna eat?”

“Soon,” Leah promised. Paul headed toward the parking lot.

“I’ll be right back,” Jason said and, without thinking, did the very thing he’d decided against. He kissed Charlotte briefly, before trailing after his brother to get the picnic basket in the trunk of his car.

Jason couldn’t believe he’d done that. Neither could Charlotte, judging by the look of surprise that flashed in her blue eyes.

“Are you going to fess up?” Paul asked, holding a heavy cooler with both hands, studying Jason.

“To what?” he demanded, narrowing his eyes, hoping his brother would take the hint.

“Charlotte.”

“What about her?”

“Don’t go all defensive on me. I was just wondering how you met.”

Jason relaxed a little. He was being too touchy. “She lives in the complex.” He didn’t think it would sound good if he admitted Carrie had offered him money to take her mother out.

“She seems nice.”

“She is. Lay off her, though, will you?”

Paul’s eyes went solemn, as if he was offended by Jason’s remark. Then he nodded. “Whatever you want.”

Paul must’ve said something to Rich, too, because when they sat down to eat, after pushing three picnic tables together, no one gave Charlotte more than a glance. It was as though she’d been part of the family for years. Which was just the way Jason wanted everyone to treat her. Heaven forbid she figure out how special she was to him. He’d already made a big enough fool of himself, simply by inviting her and Carrie to this outing.

Charlotte’s daughter had won a few hearts all on her own, Jason saw, secretly pleased. Ryan and Ronnie had clamored to sit next to her at lunch, beating out Bethany, who cried with disappointment until Carrie agreed to hold the little girl on her lap.

“I think Carrie’s made a conquest,” Jason said to Charlotte, munching on a chocolate chip cookie. His fourth, and he was ready for another.

“She loves children. She’s the type of kid who’d prefer to be the oldest of ten.”

Jason watched as a sadness, however brief, flashed in Charlotte’s eyes. It told him she wasn’t speaking only for Carrie, but herself, as well. She must’ve wanted so much more from her marriage than she’d gotten. He remembered something else then, something Carrie had told him about Charlotte wanting more children. At the time he’d decided to stay away. A woman with marriage and children on her mind was someone he planned to avoid. Strangely, the thought didn’t terrify him nearly as much now.

Still, he had to admit that the fleeting look of pain got to him. He’d experienced the desire to protect her in the past, to guard her from hurt, but only when she was in his arms. Only when he feared he might hurt her. Now, the need to keep her safe burned in his chest. He wanted to block out anything that would cause her pain. Most of all, he wanted to meet the ex-husband who’d walked away from his family, and he’d prefer it be in a dark alley some night.

Although he didn’t know any details of the divorce, Carrie had told him she never heard from her father. What kind of man would desert his family? What kind of man would turn a warm, vivacious woman like Charlotte into a near-recluse?

“I like your family,” Charlotte said, smiling up at him, distracting him from his thoughts.

“Did Leah and Jamie bombard you with questions?”

“A few, but they’re so nice, I didn’t mind.”

“What did you tell them?” Jason was eager to know, partially because it might clear up a few questions he had himself. Maybe Charlotte could put into perspective what he was feeling and was unable to define.

She laughed, causing the others to momentarily look their way. “Are you worried?”

“No.” The question surprised him.

“For a moment there, you looked as if you were afraid I might’ve told them something you’d rather I didn’t.”

“You can tell them anything you want,” he said decisively, meaning it. If she chose to imply that they were madly in love, then fine, he’d deal with it. On the other hand, if she’d chosen to let his family believe they’d only just met, which wasn’t so far from the truth, then he’d live with that, too.

“I told them we’re friends … special friends.”

Jason approved. He couldn’t have said it better.

“Uncle Jase,” Ronnie shouted, clutching a Frisbee. “Are we ready to play?”

“Play?” Jason didn’t need to be invited twice. His favorite part of these family get-togethers was the time after lunch that he spent with his nieces and nephews. Chasing after Ronnie and Ryan and a Frisbee kept him young at heart, he told himself. Though he didn’t care to admit out loud just how much he liked running around with a pair of eight-year-olds. The boys enjoyed it, too, and before the afternoon was over Rich and Paul invariably joined in.

As they did now. The two brothers against Jason and a handful of youngsters in a game of Frisbee football. A few minutes into the competition, Jason dived to catch a wild throw, catapulting himself into the air and latching triumphantly on to the disk.

Ronnie and Ryan cheered, and Jason felt as pleased with his small feat as he’d been with the home run. After an hour, the two teams took a break. Breathless, he reached for a cold soda, pulled back the tab and guzzled it down.

He turned, looking for Charlotte. The last time he’d seen her she was with Leah and Jamie cleaning up the remains of their picnic. He saw her sitting on a blanket under a madrona tree, bouncing Jeremy on her knee. Bethany and Kelsey were sprawled out, napping, beside her. She was playing a game with the baby, nuzzling his neck and making cooing sounds. Her eyes radiated a happiness he’d never seen. A joy that transfixed him.

“Jason, are you in or out?”

Jason barely heard the words, his gaze on Charlotte.

“In,” he decided, tossing the empty can in the garbage and heading back to the field. A couple of minutes later he was completely engrossed in the game. Carrie had sided with his brothers against him and was proving to be a worthy opponent. Ronnie caught the Frisbee and lobbed it to his twin. Jason glanced toward Charlotte again and saw her lift Jeremy above her head and laugh up at him.

Jason’s heart constricted. Watching Charlotte with his brother’s child did funny things to his chest. She was smiling, happy. A powerful emotion seized his heart in a way that was almost painful.

One pain was followed almost immediately by another as the Frisbee hit him hard. The wind momentarily knocked out of him, he doubled over.

“Uncle Jase!”

“Jason!”

Paul and Ronnie were the first to reach him.

“You all right?” Paul asked.

Jason’s eyes moved toward Charlotte and he shook his head. “No,” he muttered, “I don’t think I am.”

Six

So this was what it meant to be part of a family, Charlotte mused, as Jason drove her and Carrie home from the ball field. This profound sense of belonging, of acceptance. She’d never experienced anything like it before. It was as though Jason’s family had known and loved her for years. As though they genuinely cared for her. Charlotte couldn’t recall a time when she’d felt anything as uplifting as she had that afternoon.

After the game they’d gathered together for a picnic. Charlotte didn’t think she’d ever laughed more. There’d been good-natured teasing, jokes, games. Even now, driving home, laughter echoed in her ears. The cousins were as close as brothers and sisters, the older ones watching out for the smaller children. They fought like brothers and sisters, too, mostly over Carrie, each wanting her attention.

Carrie had beamed, loving every minute of it.

After the initial round of questions, Leah and Jamie had treated Charlotte like … well, like family. The women were obviously good friends, yet included Charlotte in all their conversations. Jason’s brothers, too, had tried to make her feel comfortable. Neither Paul nor Rich had asked a single question about her relationship with Jason, probably content to have their wives fill in the gaps later.

“You’re very quiet,” Jason said, taking his eyes off the road for a second. “Anything wrong? My brothers didn’t—”

“No,” she assured him with a smile.

The only sound was the hum of the road. Carrie, usually filled with boundless energy, was exhausted after chasing the children around for most of the afternoon. She’d enjoyed herself as much as Charlotte had.

And perhaps her daughter was thinking the same thing Charlotte was—that she’d missed out on something important because they only had each other.

Jason parked the car, then carried the near-empty picnic basket into her kitchen. He hesitated after setting it on the counter. “You’re sure nothing’s wrong?”

Charlotte nodded. “Positive. I had a wonderful time. A fabulous time. Thank you for asking Carrie and me.”

He didn’t seem to believe her. “Did Leah and Jamie hound you with questions?” he asked for the second time that day, a pensive frown on his face.

“Jason,” she murmured, resting her hands on his forearms and gazing up at him. “I meant it. Every word. This day with you and your brothers and their families was one of the happiest of my life. If I’m being introspective it’s because … well, because I’ve never realized until now how much I’ve missed in life.” Jason’s questioning eyes sought hers, as if he wasn’t sure he understood.

She managed to meet his eyes. She felt close to Jason just then, closer than she had to anyone, and that confused her. She was falling in love with this man and that was something she couldn’t allow. Was it Jason she loved, or his family?

“Charlotte, look at me.”

She ignored the request. “I was an only child, too,” she told him, “like Carrie.” She wanted to explain. “There were never outings that included aunts and uncles or cousins. This is a new experience for Carrie and me.”

“Look at me,” he said again, his voice low and commanding.

Slowly her gaze traveled the length of him, up his chest, over the width of his shoulders, to his eyes. She stared into them and felt a sudden sense of connection. It was a powerful sensation, powerful and exciting.

“Where’s Carrie?” Jason asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“She’s on the phone in her room. Why?”

“Because I’m going to kiss you.”

Charlotte’s heart tripped into double time. She was tempted to make some excuse, anything that would put an end to the craziness that overcame her with Jason, but she didn’t trust her voice, let alone her heart.

Whatever she might’ve said was never meant to be. Jason’s kiss saw to that. He gathered her in his arms, and lowered his mouth to hers. His lips were there, warm and moist, reminding her of sunshine. The kiss was chaste, yet curiously sensual.

Of her own accord she deepened their kiss. Jason responded quickly.

He moaned, or perhaps it was her own voice making those soft sounds. She melted into him, her body responding instinctively, naturally, to his.

“Charlotte.” He brought her even closer, and their kiss went on and on. She grew hot, and hotter, then hotter still … until …

“No more …” she cried, breaking away, panting. “Please … no more.”

Jason trembled with restraint, closing his eyes. “You’re right,” he murmured. “Carrie’s in the other room.”

“Carrie,” Charlotte repeated, grateful for the excuse.

Jason drew in several deep breaths, then said, “I should be leaving.”

Charlotte nodded, but she didn’t want him to go. Her body was on fire. She wondered if he was experiencing the same kind of torment himself—and if he was angry with her for sending him away.

“Would you like to come with me again next Saturday?” The question was offhanded, as though he’d just thought of it.

Charlotte’s heart soared at the prospect. “If you’re sure you want me.”

Laughter leapt into his eyes, melding with the fire that was already there. “Trust me, Charlotte, I want you.”

With that, he was out the door.

No sooner had Jason left than Carrie appeared in the kitchen. “Did Jason leave?”

Charlotte nodded, too preoccupied to answer outright. She was trembling, and all because of a few words. He wanted her. He’d been honest and forthright as she’d come to expect.

“Mom, we need to talk.”

“Go ahead,” Charlotte said, as she unloaded the picnic basket. There was surprisingly little food left over. Ryan and Ronnie had discovered her chocolate chip cookies, thanks to Jason, and the three dozen she’d brought had disappeared in no time. She’d set out the fresh fruit-and-cheese platter and that had disappeared, too. There were a couple of sandwiches still wrapped, but they’d keep for her and Carrie to eat the following day.

“It’s about the ninth-grade dance,” Carrie said stiffly from behind her.

Charlotte froze. This wasn’t a subject she wanted to discuss, not again. “I’ve said everything I’m going to say about it, Carrie. The subject is closed.”

“I hope you realize you’re ruining my entire life,” Carrie announced theatrically.

“Dropping you off at the dance and picking you up myself is a reasonable compromise, I think.”

“Then you think wrong. I’d … rather walk to school naked than have you drive me to the dance as if … as if there wasn’t a single boy in the entire class who wanted to be seen with me.”

She sighed. “I’ll be happy to pick up Brad, too, if that’ll help.” That was more than she was really in favor of, but she supposed she could live with it.

“Then everyone will think I asked Brad to the dance. I mean, I know girls do that, but it’s important to me that a certain girl find out that Brad asked me. How can you do this, Mom? Can’t you see how important this is?” Her eyes were imploring, a look designed to melt any mother’s heart.

Charlotte steeled herself. “You’re too young, Carrie, and that’s the end of it.”

“You don’t understand what you’re doing to me!” Carried wailed.

“The subject is closed.”

“Fine, ruin my life. See if I care.” She stalked out of the kitchen, arms swinging.

With a heavy sigh, Charlotte watched her go. This argument was getting old. She’d been under the impression that her daughter had accepted her decision. But now it was apparent Carrie had only been regrouping, altering her tactics. Cool reason had evolved into implied guilt. Her fifteen-year-old made it sound as though Charlotte had done untold psychological damage by not letting her go on an actual date. Well, so be it, Charlotte decided. This issue was one she didn’t intend to back down on any more than she already had.

Pulling out a kitchen chair, Charlotte sank tiredly into it, resting her face in her hands. She sighed again. She had trouble enough raising one child; she was insane to even contemplate having another.

A baby.

But she did want another child, so badly she ached with it. Holding Jeremy, Jamie and Rich’s little boy, had stirred to life a craving buried deep within her heart. She attempted to push the desire away, rebury it, anything but acknowledge it. She’d had to repress this desire several times over the years.

A baby now was out of the question, she stubbornly reminded herself. She was too old; there were dangers for a woman on the other side of thirty-five. But age was the least of her concerns.

Getting pregnant required a man. Even more problematic, it required making love.

The sadness that weighed down Charlotte’s heart felt impossible to carry alone. Tears blurred her eyes. If ever there was a man she could love, it was Jason Manning. But the thought of falling in love again terrified her. Charlotte was afraid of love. Afraid of all the feelings and desires Jason had stirred to life. He was wonderful. His family was wonderful. But it was a painful kind of wonderful, taunting her with all that was never meant to be in her life.

Charlotte had dealt with her share of problems. Finances. Isolation. Low self-esteem. Everything had been a struggle for her. She didn’t know how to react to wonderful.

For the first time since her divorce, Charlotte felt the protective walls she’d erected around her heart being threatened. Those barriers were fortified by years of disappointment, years of resentment and pain. Now they seemed to be crumbling and all because of a man she’d never even seen without a baseball cap.

For now, Jason was attracted to her, but in her heart she believed his interest in her wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. The time was fast approaching when she wouldn’t be able to put him off, and he’d know. That very afternoon, she’d seen the way he’d trembled in an effort to restrain himself. She’d watched as he’d closed his eyes and drawn in several deep breaths.

Soon kissing wouldn’t be enough for him. Soon he’d discover how inadequate she was when it came to making love. She had never satisfied Tom, no matter how hard she’d tried. In the end he’d taunted her, claiming the day would come when she’d realize all the ugly things he’d said about her were true. She didn’t have what it took to satisfy a man.

When Jason learned that, he’d start to make excuses not to see her again. He’d regret ever having met her, and worse, he’d regret having introduced her to his family.

She never should’ve accepted his invitation. It would make everything so much more awkward later….

The tears slipped from her eyes before she was aware she was crying. The soul-deep insecurity, awakened by the memories of her marriage, returned to haunt her. The doubts, the fear and dread, were back, taking up residence in her mind.

Covering her face with her hands, Charlotte swallowed the sobs beginning to spill out in huge swells of emotion. In an effort to gain control, she held her breath so long her lungs ached.

She heard her ex-husband’s words—you aren’t woman enough—inflicting injury all over again until she covered her ears and closed her eyes, wanting to blot them out forever.

Why should Jason fall in love with her when the world was full of whole, sexual women who’d gladly satisfy his needs? Passionate women who’d blossom in his arms and sigh with pleasure and fulfillment. She was incapable of giving a man what he needed. Tom had repeatedly told her so. She was inept as a woman, inept at lovemaking.

“Mom,” Carrie said coolly from behind her. “I’m going to Amanda’s house.” She waited as though she expected Charlotte to object.

Charlotte nodded, then stood and resumed unpacking the picnic basket, not wanting Carrie to see her tears. “Okay, honey. Just don’t be late.”

“I may never come home again,” Carrie said dramatically.

“Dinner’s at six.”

“All right,” Carrie muttered and walked out the door.

It wasn’t until later, much later, while she was in bed finding it impossible to sleep, that Charlotte’s thoughts returned to Jason. She’d allowed things to go further than she should have. It was a mistake. One she had to correct at the earliest possible moment. She must’ve been crazy to let their relationship reach this point.

Crazy or desperate? Charlotte didn’t know which. It had all started weeks earlier when she’d held a friend’s baby. Funny how she could remember the precise moment with such accuracy. The longing for a child had escalated within her, gaining momentum, refusing to be ignored. She’d gone home and wept and although the tears had finally dried, inside she hadn’t stopped weeping.

Shortly after the incident with Kathy Crenshaw and her baby, Charlotte had met Jason. He’d kissed her that first night and it had been … She hadn’t tensed or frozen up and that had given her hope. Her confidence continued to grow when he kissed her again and again; he’d always been gentle and undemanding. He was special that way, and she’d be forever grateful for the uncanny gift he had of understanding her needs.

But Jason was a man of raw sensuality. He wouldn’t be satisfied with a few chaste kisses for much longer. He had no idea how terrified she was of him, of any man.

No, it was only a matter of time before the best thing that had happened to her in years came abruptly to an end.

On Sunday, Jason wasn’t in the mood to cook. Microwave popcorn for dinner suited him better than a frozen entrée. He popped a batch and sat down in front of the television to watch a bowling tournament. Not his favorite sport, but there wasn’t much to choose from.

When his phone rang, he stood on the sofa and reached across to grab it from the kitchen counter. He was half hoping it was Charlotte.

It wasn’t.

“Jase, I don’t suppose you’ve got Charlotte’s phone number, do you?” Paul asked cordially enough, only Jason wasn’t fooled. As the oldest, his brother sometimes got the notion that he needed to oversee family matters. That didn’t include Charlotte, and Jason intended to make sure Paul understood that.

“Jase?”

Of course he had Charlotte’s number. “Yeah. What do you want it for?” Suspicions multiplied in his brain. Being a newspaper reporter, Paul was used to getting information out of people.

“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.

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