The Manning Grooms: Bride on the Loose / Same Time, Next Year. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
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