The Manning Grooms

  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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  A pause followed her announcement. “Why not?”

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

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

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

  “Is it something I said?”

  She lowered her eyes farther and shook her head.

  “Something I did?”

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

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

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

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

  “I can’t.”

  “Why can’t you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Jason…”

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

  “You’re doing it again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “No?” How disappointed he sounded.

  “No,” she said a second time.

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

  “Y-yes.”

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

  Seven

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

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

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

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

  “Charlotte?” he probed gently.

  “My ex-husband,” she muttered.

  “He’s wrong, you know.”

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

  “You never mention your ex-husband.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  You’re perfect, Jason had said.

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

  She had loved Tom. She’d hated him.

  He had stripped her of her pride when he left.

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

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

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

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

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