“Until the accident tonight I was just fine,” Charlotte told him, her eyes flitting away from his. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m usually not so emotional, but seeing that poor little dog on the road bleeding and hurt like that really got to me.”

“It gets to me, too.” The sight of an innocent animal suffering never failed to disturb Jason, although he saw it time and time again. The helplessness of the situation, the complete disregard for life that a hit-and-run accident revealed, angered him.

“I’m so glad you were home,” Charlotte said, keeping her gaze lowered. “I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”

“I’m glad I was there, too.” He reached across the table, taking her hand, linking their fingers. Her skin was smooth and soft, just the way he remembered.

His eyes sought hers. He smiled and she smiled back. Jason felt ridiculously, unreasonably pleased that they were together. For days he’d been fighting it, and now that they were together, he felt foolish for having put up such a struggle. He should quit worrying about the future, he told himself. Live for the moment. Wasn’t that what all the self-help books said? One day at a time. One kiss at a time.

After what seemed like an eternity, Charlotte dragged her eyes from his.

“How about dessert?” he asked.

Charlotte picked up the menu and read over the limited selection.

“I was thinking more along the lines of homemade chocolate chip cookies,” Jason said.

“They don’t seem to have…Oh, you mean mine?” She raised eyes as blue as a summer sky.

He nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve reconsidered. It’s true.” His voice sounded slightly hoarse and, if he didn’t know better, seductive.

“What is?”

“The way to my heart takes a direct route through my stomach.”

“Oh.” She blinked as if he’d caught her off guard. She was beautiful, he realized all over again. So gentle and caring. He’d missed her, yet he’d tried to convince himself otherwise, and had been doing a good job of it, too—too good, in fact.

The world seemed to stop. Jason knew his breathing did. He felt as if he were drowning in her eyes. He would’ve liked to blame it on how tired he was, but he’d only be lying to himself.

“You like softball?” he found himself asking next.

She nodded, obviously trying to keep her eyes averted from his. Apparently she was having a difficult time of it, because whenever their eyes met, it would be several moments before she looked away.

“I understand softball, more than basketball at any rate,” she said, sounding slightly breathless.

“My brothers and I play on a team Saturday mornings. Do you and Carrie want to come and watch this weekend?”

Charlotte nodded.

“Good.”

They were both silent on the way home. Jason knew he was going to kiss her again. He couldn’t imagine not kissing her again.

Charlotte must have read his intentions, because her hand was on the car door the minute he shut off the engine. She reminded him of a trapped bird, eager to escape, and yet she didn’t move.

His hand on her shoulder turned her toward him. His heart tripped wildly as she leaned toward him. He felt sure her heart was pounding as furiously as his.

Slowly, so slowly he wondered if he was dreaming it, Charlotte swayed closer. He lowered his mouth to hers. Jason wanted this kiss, wanted it more than he could remember wanting anything. It’d been over a week since he’d seen her and it felt like a lifetime. A thousand lifetimes.

Charlotte’s hands were braced against his chest as he kissed her again, deeper, more fully. Again he kissed her, and again. Finally she broke away.

“Stop,” she pleaded. The words were breathless and he could feel her shudder.

Reluctantly, Jason pulled back. Their eyes met again, and for the second time that night, Jason had the feeling she was frightened, although he didn’t understand why. Wanting to comfort her, he traced a knuckle down the curve of her cheek.

“Carrie will be worried,” she said.

He said nothing.

“I can’t thank you enough. For saving Higgins. The dog.”

Again Jason said nothing.

“Jason,” she whispered. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to kiss me again.”

“I do.” He wasn’t going to lie about it.

He saw that her hand was shaking as she opened the car door and climbed out. She seemed eager to make her escape now.

“Good night,” she said with obvious false cheer.

“Little coward,” Jason muttered under his breath, amused. “Saturday morning!” he shouted after her.

“What time?” She turned to face him again.

“Nine-thirty. Is that too early?”

“I’ll be ready.”

“I’ll call you in the morning about Higgins.”

“Please,” she said, her eyes widening as though she’d momentarily forgotten the dog. “Oh, please do.” She snapped open her purse and withdrew a business card, walking toward him now. “This is my number at the office. I’ll be there after nine.”

“Then I’ll phone at nine.”

“’Night.”

“’Night,” he echoed, returning to his apartment.

He wasn’t there more than five minutes when his doorbell chimed. He certainly wasn’t in the mood for company, but as the building owner and manager, he couldn’t very well ignore a visitor.

He opened his door to discover Carrie standing on the other side, a covered plastic bowl in her hand. “These are for you.”

He accepted the container with a puzzled frown.

“Mom asked me to bring you some chocolate chip cookies,” she said, grinning broadly.

Five

“Mom, you look fine.”

“I don’t look fine…I look wretched,” Charlotte insisted, viewing her backside in the hallway mirror. She must’ve been mad to let Carrie talk her into buying jeans. Fashionably faded jeans, no less. Not only had she plunked down ninety bucks for the pair, they looked as if they’d spent the past ten years in someone’s attic.

“You’re acting like a little kid,” Carrie said, slapping her hands against her sides in disgust. “We’re going to a softball game, not the senior prom.”

“Why didn’t you tell me my thighs are so…round?” Charlotte cried in despair. “No woman wants to be seen in pants that make her legs look like hot dogs. I’m not going anywhere.”

Carrie just rolled her eyes.

“Call Jason,” Charlotte told her daughter. “Tell him…anything. Make up some excuse.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Please do as I say.”

“Mom?”

“We’re meeting his family,” Charlotte cried. “I can’t meet his brothers and sisters-in-law looking like this.”

“Change clothes, then, if you’re so self-conscious.”

As though she had anything to change into. Charlotte’s wardrobe was limited to business suits and sweatpants. There was no in-between. She couldn’t afford to clothe both of them in expensive jeans. But after Jason had invited her out for today, she’d allowed Carrie to talk her into a shopping spree. Thank heaven for Visa. And thank heaven for Jason’s generosity; he’d refused to accept any payment for the dog’s care.

“I’m not calling Jason!” Carrie crossed her arms righteously. The girl had a streak of stubbornness a mile wide, and Charlotte had collided with it more than once.

Defeated, Charlotte muttered under her breath and fled to her room, sitting on the end of her bed. Before the shopping trip, she’d managed to put today’s plans out of her mind and focus her attention on Higgins. Then the softball game had turned into the better part of a day, including a picnic, involving most of his family.

“Mom,” Carrie said, approaching her carefully. “What’s wrong?”

Charlotte shrugged, not sure how to explain her nervousness. “I wish I’d never agreed to this.”

“But why?” Carrie wanted to know. “I’ve been looking forward to it all week. Just think of all the babysitting prospects. Jason’s family is a potential gold mine for me.” Carrie sat on the bed beside Charlotte. “We’re going, aren’t we?”

Charlotte nodded. She was overreacting, and she knew it. After shelling out ninety bucks she was wearing those jeans, no matter how they made her look.

“Good,” Carrie said, leaping excitedly to her feet. “I’ve got the picnic basket packed. Honestly, Mom, we’re bringing so much food, we could open a concession stand.”

“I didn’t want to run short.” Charlotte didn’t bother denying that she’d packed enough to feed Jason’s entire family. A fruit-and-cheese plate, sandwiches, potato salad, a batch of chocolate chip cookies and a variety of other goodies she’d thrown in at the last minute.

Jason had casually mentioned the picnic the day before, when she’d gone to the hospital to visit Higgins. The dog was just beginning to respond to them. He was recovering slowly, but according to Jason, they’d be able to bring him home within a week. Charlotte soon discovered that visiting her new dog was a dual-edged sword. Every time she was at the veterinary hospital, she ran into Jason. Usually they had a cup of coffee together and talked; once he’d suggested dinner and Charlotte hadn’t been able to dredge up a single excuse not to join him. He’d even taken her and Carrie to a movie. Now she was meeting his family, and it terrified her.

Ten minutes later, as Charlotte was rearranging their picnic basket to find room for a tablecloth and paper napkins, Jason arrived.

Carrie answered the door and directed him to the kitchen.

“Jason’s here,” she said unnecessarily.

“Hi.” Charlotte greeted him nervously, turning around, a tense smile on her face. She was watching him carefully, wanting to read his expression when he saw her in the tight jeans.

“Hi, I was just—” He stopped abruptly, letting whatever he meant to say fade into nothingness. He stood before her, his mouth dangling open. Slowly his eyes widened.

With appreciation.

At least she thought it was appreciation. She prayed that was what it was, and not disgust or shock or any of the emotions she’d endured that morning.

“I…I’ve got everything ready.” She rubbed her suddenly damp hands down her thighs. “Carrie says I’ve packed too much food, but I don’t think so. I hope you like cantaloupe, because I just added one.” She knew she was chattering aimlessly, but couldn’t seem to stop.

“You look…fabulous.”

“I do?” Charlotte hated how uncertain she sounded.

Jason nodded as though he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off her long enough to play ball, which had to be the nicest compliment he’d ever paid her.

“Carrie talked me into buying the jeans,” she mumbled, tossing the napkins on top of the heap and closing the lid as far as it would go.