The Manning Grooms (Those Manning Men #0)

The Manning Grooms (Those Manning Men #0) Page 18

When she finally did come, Jason was about to complain. He was going to a lot of trouble for this blasted dance; the least she could do was be ready on time.

Whatever he’d intended to say, however, flew out of his mind when he saw Charlotte. For the longest moment of his life, he stood there immobile.

This was Charlotte! She was…stunning.

“I’m…sorry,” she said, sounding flustered. “I didn’t mean to keep you standing out here, but I’m having a problem with this dress.”

She was beautiful.

The word didn’t begin to describe how breathtaking she looked. Her hair was done in a way he’d never seen before, swirled to one side, exposing the smooth skin of her cheek and her long, slender neck. Dangling gold earrings swung from her ears. Her eyes were a brighter blue than ever before, the color of the sky washed clean by a summer squall. Her dress was a paler shade of blue…Her dress…Jason’s gaze slid over the sleeveless dress with its tight bodice and flared skirt, and an invisible hand seemed to appear out of thin air and knock him senseless.

“Jason.” Her eyes implored him as she held one hand behind her back. “Is something wrong? I look terrible, don’t I? Don’t worry about hurting my feelings…This dress is too fancy, isn’t it?”

It was all he could do to close his mouth. “You look…fabulous.” Which was the understatement of the century. Jason felt sorry that he wasn’t more sophisticated and urbane.

If he had been, he might have told her how exquisite she was. He might have found the words to say he’d gladly rework the knot in his tie for another hour if it meant he could spend the evening with her. For the first time since he’d donned the suit jacket, he felt no remorse for volunteering to escort Charlotte to her daughter’s dance.

“I can’t get the zipper all the way up,” Charlotte explained. “I was so busy helping Carrie get ready before Brad and his father arrived that I…I didn’t get dressed myself, and now I can’t reach the zipper. Would you mind?”

She presented him with her back and it was all Jason could do to pull the tab up instead of down. If he went on instinct he’d have had her out of that dress, in his arms and on the way to the bedroom. He couldn’t recall a time he’d wanted a woman more than he did Charlotte Weston right then and there.

“Jason?” She glanced over her shoulder when he delayed.

His hand felt clammy, and at first his fingers refused to cooperate, but with some effort he managed to do as she asked, sliding the zipper up her back.

“Thank you,” she said. “You can’t imagine what a madhouse it’s been around here,” she went on. “Carrie was so nervous. She looked so grown-up. I can’t believe my baby isn’t a baby anymore.”

Jason returned her smile. “My mother felt the same way when Christy—my sister—attended her first big dance.”

Even now, Jason was having trouble forming coherent sentences.

“The dress isn’t mine,” she told him as she searched for her evening bag, wandering from one room to the next until she located it. “I borrowed it from one of my friends at the office…It’s too close to the end of the month to go out and buy one.” She sighed, sounding breathless. “Even if I’d had the extra money, I doubt I would’ve been able to find one at the last minute. I’d feel dreadful if something happened to Cheryl’s dress.”

“I borrowed the suit from my brother.” Maintaining an intelligible conversation, he discovered, wasn’t as much of a problem as keeping his eyes off her.

Charlotte drew in a deep, steadying breath. “I know it’s silly, but I’m as nervous as Carrie.”

He smiled, trying to reassure her.

“The last dance I attended was in college,” she said. “I…I don’t know if I can dance anymore.”

“I’m not exactly light on my feet, Charlotte,” Jason felt obliged to remind her. He’d warned her earlier, but he doubted she’d taken him seriously.

“Do you think we should practice?” she asked.

She was gazing up at him with wide eyes. Jason would’ve given everything he owned to find out if she was feeling anything close to the emotional havoc he was.

“Practice?” he echoed. “That’s an idea.” He swallowed, wondering exactly what he was inviting. Trouble with a capital T, considering the way his body was reacting.

Charlotte set aside her evening bag and walked into his embrace. “I’m afraid I’m not going to be very good at this,” she murmured.

“Don’t worry. Hey, as far as I’m concerned, those ninth-graders are going to dance circles around us anyway.”

Charlotte’s laugh sounded sweet and soft, and Jason’s heart constricted. Could this be love? This pleasure he felt in doing small things for her—like the dinner and flowers? This need to hold her in his arms? This desire to be with her and her alone?

The feel of Charlotte’s body against his was the purest form of torture he’d ever experienced. She fit in his arms as though she belonged there. Had always belonged there. He tried to ignore how right it felt.

And couldn’t.

He tried to ignore the fragrance of wildflowers that whispered through her hair whenever she moved her head.

And didn’t.

He tried, but failed.

Everything went fairly well for the first few minutes. At least he wasn’t stepping on her feet. Then Jason realized their feet weren’t moving and they were staring at each other more than they were dancing. Gazing at each other with starry-eyed wonder.

He shifted his hand upward, wanting to lessen the feeling of intimacy, but his fingers inadvertently grazed the skin of her upper back.

Either he kissed her now or he’d regret it the rest of the night. Either he continued the pretense or confessed openly to how vulnerable she made him feel.

He brought her closer to him. He could feel her heart racing, echoing his own. Once he kissed her, he knew there’d be no stopping. Not this time.

He lowered his head ever so slightly and waited.

Charlotte sighed, closed her eyes and lifted her mouth enticingly to his. He suspected she was unconscious of what she was doing, what she was seeking.

Frankly, Jason didn’t care. He was so hungry for the taste of her, nothing mattered. His mouth found hers and he groaned. Charlotte did, too.

He hadn’t touched her in days, wanting to give her time, give himself time to define the boundaries of their relationship. It had been too long. He felt so needy he trembled.

The kiss was long, slow, deliberate.

Slowly, reluctantly dragging his mouth from hers, he created a small distance between them. Her eyes slowly fluttered open and met his.

“Jason?”

“I want you, Charlotte.” He couldn’t be any plainer than that. “I need you.”

Emotion flickered in her gaze. Was it fear? Pain? Jason found it impossible to tell.

“Do you want to stop?” His hands were in her hair. By the time she lifted her mouth from his, Jason was melting with a need so powerful it throbbed within him.

Charlotte sighed into the hollow of his throat. “Jason, will you be angry with me?”

He saw the emotions assailing her, but noted the dignified way in which she tilted her chin and the proud squaring of her shoulders.

“No, I won’t be angry.”

She relaxed. Visibly. “Didn’t you tell me you made dinner reservations for seven-thirty?”

“Yes.” He recognized her fear and tried to ignore his own disappointment.

Self-conscious now, Charlotte broke away, quietly adjusting her clothes, then retrieved her evening bag. It wasn’t until she looked up at him that he saw the anguish in her eyes.

He didn’t know what her ex-husband—he assumed it was her ex-husband—had done. Her gaze linked with his, regret and misery so evident it was all he could do not to reach for her again. To comfort, not to kiss. To offer her solace, not passion.

Now, more than ever, Jason was determined to discover how her ex-husband had hurt her so badly. Determined to help her recover and teach her how beautiful love could be.

Charlotte was shaken to her very core. The intensity of their kisses had grown fervent and passionate, near the point of no return. If she’d given him the least bit of encouragement, he would have carried her into the bedroom.

For one wild moment, she’d been tempted to let him. Then the haze of desire had faded enough for sanity to return.

She felt grateful that Jason had allowed her to regain her senses, had given her the option to stop or proceed. Not like Tom…

Charlotte was jarred by this latest exchange even more than the other times Jason had held her and kissed her.

He’d almost made her forget.

Since her divorce, Charlotte had been content in her own small, secure world. The world she’d so carefully constructed for herself and Carrie. It had been the two of them, prevailing against all odds, forging a life together. The borders of her world had been narrow and confining, but Charlotte had made peace with that, had accepted its limitations.

Then a series of events had thrown her into confusion. It had all started at the baby shower for her friend Kathy Crenshaw. Charlotte had held the newborn in her arms and the longing she’d managed to ignore all these years had struck her full-force.

Shortly afterward she’d met Jason, and her life hadn’t been the same since.

Because of Jason, she’d recognized how restricted her world had become. How limited. If that wasn’t enough, he’d shown her glimpses of a life she’d never dared hope existed. He’d taught her to dream, to believe in the impossible.

Almost.

After a protracted farewell to Higgins, they went out to the parking lot. Jason opened the car door and helped her inside, then stood in the fresh air for several minutes, hands in his coat pockets. He closed his eyes and turned his face toward the night sky.

Charlotte knew it was difficult for a man to cut the lovemaking off as abruptly as they’d done. He needed a few minutes to compose himself.

She watched him as he climbed into the car. He hesitated after inserting the key into the ignition and smiled over at her. “Ready?”

Charlotte nodded. “Are you…all right?”

“Never finer,” he assured her, then clasped her hand to kiss her knuckles.

Nine

Jason Manning was a romantic. Beneath that I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude was a tenderness and warmth that left Charlotte feeling like a starry-eyed adolescent. The candlelight dinner at an elegant cliffside restaurant had been wonderful. There he’d given her a fragrant rosebud corsage that was so lovely, it had brought tears to her eyes.

The dance had been the best part of their evening. They’d had a delightful time, despite being surrounded by ninth-graders and forced to endure an earsplitting mixture of songs.

Jason and Charlotte had discovered early on that they weren’t going to be able to dance to rap music. After a number of hilarious attempts, they’d given up. Several of their efforts had left Charlotte laughing so hard, her ribs ached.

Jason had been equally amused, and after their unsuccessful attempts to blend in with the kids, he’d reached for Charlotte, guiding her into his arms. She’d draped her wrists loosely around his neck and he placed his hands on her hips. Then they’d invented their own dance….