The Manning Grooms

by Debbie Macomber

“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 d
oes 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.