Read the book: «The Manning Grooms: Bride on the Loose / Same Time, Next Year»

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.