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