Книга - This Matter Of Marriage

This Matter Of Marriage
Debbie Macomber


Perfect for fans of Maeve Binchy' - CandisThe alarm on Hallie’s biological clock is buzzing. She’s hitting the big three-O and there’s no prospect of marriage, no man in sight. Hallie, an organized, goal-setting kind of person, gives herself a year to meet Mr. Knight…In Shining Armor. But all her dates are disasters. (There’s the cheapskate and the sex fiend and…well, never mind.)Too bad she can’t just fall for her good-looking neighbor Steve Marris–who’s definitely not her type. Anyway, Steve’s busy trying to win back his ex-wife, Mary Lynn, who’s busy getting married–but not to Steve. Life would be so much simpler if he could fall for someone else. Like…Hallie.They’re friends, though–and sometimes friends become lovers. Sometimes friends become more.









Praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling author DEBBIE MACOMBER


“Debbie Macomber’s gift for understanding the souls of women—their relationships, their values, their lives—is at its peak.”

—BookPage on Between Friends

“Macomber offers a very human look at three women who uproot their lives to follow their true destiny.”

—Booklist on Changing Habits

“Macomber is known for her honest portrayals of ordinary women in small-town America, and this tale cements her position as an icon of the genre.”

—Publishers Weekly on 16 Lighthouse Road

“Debbie Macomber is one of the most reliable, versatile romance authors around. Whether she’s writing light-hearted romps or more serious relationship books, her novels are always engaging stories that accurately capture the foibles of real-life men and women with warmth and humor.”

—Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

“Macomber’s women serve as bedrock for one another in this sometimes tearful, always uplifting tale that will make readers wish they could join this charming breakfast club.”

—Booklist on Thursdays at Eight

“Debbie Macomber is one of the few true originals in women’s fiction…. Her books are touching and marvelous and not to be missed!”

—Anne Stuart

“As always, Macomber draws rich, engaging characters.”

—Publishers Weekly on Thursdays at Eight

“Debbie Macomber shows why she is one of the most powerful, highly regarded authors on the stage today.”

—Midwest Book Review




This Matter of Marriage

Debbie Macomber








For Paula and Dianne.

You know why.




ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


I remember watching the Academy Awards and wondering just how long it would take for the awards winner to spout off all the names of those who’d helped along the way. The list seemed endless. While I’m not an Academy Award winner—at least, not yet—I have my own list of people to thank, so please bear with me.



Thanks, first and foremost, to my husband, Wayne, who loved and believed in me enough to allow me to follow my dream. To my agent, Irene Goodman, who held my hand all through contract negotiations. To my best friend, Linda Lael Miller, who taught me everything I needed to know about power-shopping. And thanks to Susan Wiggs for our twice-a-month neurotic lunches.



No writer has been blessed with a better support team. Thank you, one and all.



Working with MIRA has been a writer’s dream. Everything in life should be this much fun. Thank you, Paula, Dianne, Randall, Candy, KO, Stuart and Brian. I hope it was as good for you as it was for me.




Contents


One: Starting Now

Two: Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Three: Seven Down, Three To Go

Four: First There Was Paul, Then George…

Five: Bachelor #1

Six: The Loan Ranger

Seven: Make Mine A Double

Eight: Bachelor #2

Nine: Bingo!

Ten: The Lady With The Curve Ball

Eleven: Disappointments

Twelve: Bachelor #3

Thirteen: Bring On The Ice Cream

Fourteen: Does He Wear Panty Hose?

Fifteen: What Friends Are For

Sixteen: Not My Type

Seventeen: She Bakes

Eighteen: Aunt Hallie

Nineteen: Take It Like A Man

Twenty: Chicken Soup For The Heart

Twenty-One: Back In The Saddle Again

Twenty-Two: The Girl Next Door

Twenty-Three: Back In The Game

Twenty-Four: Four Blind Mice

Twenty-Five: When Todd Met Donnalee

Twenty-Six: Second Chance At Love

Twenty-Seven: Large Women Wearing Helmets With Horns

Twenty-Eight: The Movies

Twenty-Nine: Love Is Better Than Chocolate

Thirty: Mr. Nice Guy

Thirty-One: Goodbye, My Heart

Thirty-Two: Wide Awake And Dreaming

Thirty-Three: The Wedding

Thirty-Four: The Wedding Bouquet

Epilogue




One

Starting Now


January 1

A new year generally starts out with me writing a few inspiring lines about how I’m going to lose five pounds—let’s be honest, it’s ten—and pay off all my credit cards and other high expectations like that. It’s the same every January. But this year’s going to be different. Oh, I still want to lose those extra pounds, more than ever, but for a different reason.

I want a husband. And eventually a family.

And that means I need a plan. Being a goal-oriented person, I usually begin by identifying what I’m after (MARRIAGE!!) and then I work out a logical procedure for getting it. Which, in this case, includes looking good. (Not that I look bad now, if I do say so myself. But I’m talking really good. Are you listening, thighs?) Because, as I’ve learned in advertising, packaging counts.

Putting all this into words is something of an eye-opener for me. I’ve come a long way from those college days when I refused to give in to what I called the “female escape route,” like some of my friends. Cassie, Jamie, Rita and Jane all got married within six months of graduation, and as far as I could see, the only reason they did was because they found the real world more of a challenge than they’d anticipated, and used marriage as a cop-out.

Not me. Oh, no, marriage was much too conventional for me. I wanted to kick some butt in the business world first. Make a name for myself with my very own graphic arts firm. And I’ve done it! Now I feel like I’ve come full circle. I’ve accomplished a lot , and I won’t minimize my achievements, but this Christmas I realized there’s more to life than getting the Woman of the Year award from the Chamber of Commerce.

So, last week I made the decision: Marriage!

It’s time to let a man into my life. Until now I’ve viewed relationships like…dessert. Nice occasionally, but not with every meal. My friends have been tossing potential husbands in my direction for years, and I’ve frustrated them again and again.

I’m too picky, that’s what Rita says. Not true. I have my standards; every woman does. But my work’s the reason I haven’t married. I’ve poured my heart into making a success of Artistic License. For the past six years my focus, my talent and all my energy have been with the business. It’s filled every waking minute.

Then, this Christmas it hit me. I want more . I suspect this has something to do with losing Dad last June. Mom’s still struggling, but then so are Julie and I. The holidays were really hard without him. Somehow, the celebration seemed empty and sad, and we were all kind of weepy thinking about the Christmas things he used to do—getting the tree every year and making a big deal out of hanging the decorations Julie and I made when we were kids. Reading the Nativity story on Christmas Eve. Putting on his Santa apron to carve the turkey. Things like that.

I’m so sorry Dad missed his granddaughter’s first Christmas. I knew Julie’s baby would help Mom through the grieving process, but I didn’t expect little Ellen to have such a profound effect on me.

I’ve always thought of myself as the strong independent type. I haven’t wanted a man around for fear I might be forced to admit I need someone. I don’t know why I’m like this. (Then again, I’m not sure I want to know, either.) The point is, I feel differently now.

It started when Julie gave me the baby to rock. I swear my heart melted when I held her. In that moment I felt something I can only describe as maternal instinct, and I realized this is what I want. This is what’s been missing from my life. A husband, a family.

With the right husband, I know I can have it all. Home, family and career. Plenty of women do it, and I can, too. Funny how a little thing like holding a baby can change a person’s attitude. I’m ready. Past ready. Starting now, my life’s taken an abrupt turn. What was vital a month ago has shifted to the back burner.

So, yes, I admit it.

I want a husband and children. Obviously, what I need first is the man. (I plan to do things in the right order!)

Mom always says that once I make up my mind I don’t let anything stand in my way. I’ve set my goal, made my plans, and I figure I should find a husband in two, three months, tops. This time next year, I expect to be a married woman. (Maybe even a pregnant one!)

Just how difficult can it be?

S weat rolled down Hallie McCarthy’s forehead, dripping in her eyes and momentarily blurring her vision. Using the towel draped around her neck, she wiped her brow. Although she’d promised herself she wouldn’t, Hallie glanced at the timer on the treadmill.

One minute left.

Sixty short seconds. She could endure that. With a renewed sense of purpose, she picked up her pace and waited impatiently for the buzzer.

The treadmill had all the bells and whistles, as it should, considering what she’d paid for it (plus the three designer running suits, color-coordinated with the treadmill). At the end of her workout a digital message would flash across the four-inch computer screen, complimenting her on a job well-done.

Donnalee had suggested she join a gym to meet men, and she would, Hallie told herself, once she was at her goal weight. But not now. She wasn’t about to go prancing around a gym with thighs that resembled ham hocks. Which, she supposed, was something like cleaning her house before the cleaning lady arrived—but she’d done that, too.

Huffing, her heart feeling ready to explode, Hallie gripped the sides of the treadmill as the timer counted down those final seconds. This last minute was proving to be the longest of her life.

Needing a distraction to take her mind off the physical agony while she raced toward an imaginary finish line, Hallie turned to look out her living-room window at the luxury condominium next door.

Hey, she was getting a new neighbor. A moving van was parked in front and a crew of able-bodied men—very able-bodied, she noted appreciatively—unloaded its contents. A big truck that probably required a step stool to climb into was parked behind it. The license-plate frame was one of those customized ones. Squinting, she was able to make out the words: BIG TRUCK. BIG TOOLS. Hallie groaned aloud and rolled her eyes. Men and their egos! Two muscular guys wandered into her line of vision, and she wondered if one of those good-looking hunks might be her neighbor.

Willow Woods, the condominium complex where she’d moved six months earlier, had all but sold out. She’d speculated it wouldn’t take long for the place next to hers to sell. Especially since it was a three-bedroom unit, the most spacious design available. Must be a family moving in. She was definitely cheered by the thought of having neighbors.

The timer went off, and the treadmill ground to a halt. Hallie heaved a sigh of relief and rubbed her sweat-drenched face with the towel. Her cheeks felt red and hot and her short curly hair was matted against her temples. Her old gray sweats—she didn’t feel comfortable sweating in her new color-coordinated ones—were loose around the waist. A promising sign. The temptation to run into the bathroom and leap on the scale was strong, but she’d made that mistake too often and vowed she’d only weigh herself once a week. Monday morning, bright and early—that was when she’d do it.

She’d lost five pounds in twenty-one days. The first two had fallen away easily, but the last three had been like chiseling at a concrete block with a tablespoon. She’d starved herself, exercised faithfully. She’d counted fat grams, carbohydrates, calories and chocolate chips to little avail.

Her best friend, Donnalee Cooper, claimed Hallie was putting too much stock in the physical, but Hallie believed otherwise. It was that packaging thing again. The men she knew based their reactions to women—at least their initial reactions—on looks. It didn’t matter if the woman had a brain in her head as long as her waist was tiny…and her other assets weren’t. Of course, attracting a man wasn’t Hallie’s only incentive for becoming physically fit. She didn’t exercise nearly enough, had taken to skipping breakfast and was downing fast food on the run. Not a healthy lifestyle. Donnalee seemed unconvinced when Hallie explained this, though, pointing out that she hadn’t worried about her health before.

Donnalee was single, although she’d had a brief disastrous marriage in her early twenties. To Hallie’s delight, when she’d shared her goal of finding a man and marrying within the next twelve months, Donnalee had decided to join forces with her. She said that she’d never meant to wait this long to remarry, and like Hallie, she wanted children. But Donnalee brought a different strategy to their marriage campaign.

“Just be yourself,” she’d advised.

“Being myself hasn’t attracted a whole lot of attention so far,” Hallie complained. That, at least, shut her friend up. Dating opportunities had dwindled to a trickle in the last few years, but she was determined to improve the situation.

Hallie showered and changed clothes, then phoned her mother who lived across Puget Sound in Bremerton, on the Kitsap Peninsula. Hallie and her father had been close, both in personality and in appearance, but it was from her mother that she’d inherited her artistic talent. Despite her ability, Lucille McCarthy had never worked outside the home. It had always troubled Hallie that a woman so genuinely talented would be content to do little more than keep house. Not until she was an adult living on her own did she recognize her mother’s contribution to the family. Over the months since her father’s sudden death, Hallie had come to appreciate her mother’s quiet strength. At Christmas, she’d encouraged her to take up oil painting, and Lucille had recently begun a class.

The conversation went well, with Lucille cheerfully describing the portrait she’d started to paint of a sleeping Ellen. Afterward, Hallie wrote her weekly grocery list, threw on a jacket and hurried out the door, eager to finish her Saturday-morning chores. It was when she climbed into her car that she saw her new neighbor. At least, she thought he was the one. He was tall and not as brawny as she’d thought at first glance. Solid, she decided. All shoulders, with good upper-body strength. Handsome, too, in an unobtrusive way. In other words, seeing him didn’t make her heart beat faster—which was just as well, since he was obviously married with children.

He did have an interesting face, a lived-in face, and seemed the type of person she’d like to know. Not romantically, of course, but maybe as a friend. She turned her attention from him to the two kids at his side. A girl and boy, who were probably about eleven and nine. Great-looking kids. The girl waved, her smile wide and friendly.

Hallie waved back, inserted the key into the ignition and drove off.

The moving van was gone by the time she returned an hour or so later. The two kids were riding their bicycles when she pulled into her driveway.

The girl headed her way, long coltish legs pumping the bicycle pedals.

“Hi,” she called. “My dad just moved next door.” She stopped abruptly and hopped off the polished chrome bike.

“So I saw,” Hallie said, leaning across the front seat and removing her bags of groceries.

“I’m Meagan. That’s my brother, Kenny.” She nodded toward the younger boy, and as if on cue, Kenny joined his sister.

“You got any kids?” Kenny asked hopefully.

“Sorry, no.” She balanced both grocery bags in her arms.

Some of the enthusiasm left the boy’s eyes. “Do you know anyone around here who does?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think there are any kids your age on this block.” Most of the couples who’d moved into the complex were just starting out. Hallie suspected there’d be any number of children in the neighborhood within a few years, but not now.

“Here,” Meagan said, tilting her bike onto the grass. “I can help you carry those in.” She took one bag out of Hallie’s hands.

“Thanks.” Hallie was touched by her thoughtfulness and said so.

The girl beamed at the praise. “Mom says I’m a big help to her now that she and Dad are divorced.”

Meagan’s expression grew sad when she mentioned the divorce. Hallie’s heart immediately went out to her—but she couldn’t help musing that her new neighbor was available, after all. It was an automatic reaction, triggered by her newly activated husband-seeking instincts.

Hallie briefly recalled her first impressions of him and decided then and there that she wanted someone with a bit more…finesse. A guy who drove a truck with a license-plate holder advertising his big tools didn’t overly impress her. It wasn’t only that, either; she’d seen what the movers had carted into his house. Sports equipment. Boxes and boxes of it. There didn’t seem to be anything this guy hadn’t tried. From mountain climbing to kayaking to scuba diving.

Hallie led the way into the kitchen, where she dumped her sack on the countertop. Meagan carefully put hers beside it. “Thanks again, Meagan.”

“Are you married?” the girl asked.

“Not yet.” But there were visions of entwined wedding rings dancing around in her head. She had a prospect, too. A man she’d just met yesterday, as a matter of fact.

“Well, gotta go have lunch. See you next weekend,” Meagan said, rushing for the front door.

As Hallie started to put the groceries away, she saw that the message light on her answering machine was blinking. Probably her mother again, or her sister, Julie, calling to report on baby Ellen’s latest adorable exploit. But what if it was him? Him being the new loans officer at Keystone Bank. Hallie had gone in on Friday afternoon to make her deposits and been introduced to John Franklin.

The minute she’d laid eyes on him she realized he was everything she sought in a husband. Tall, dark and handsome. Friendly, polite and clearly intelligent. He met all the basic criteria, including availability; she’d noticed the absence of a wedding ring. He was close to forty, she estimated, but that didn’t disturb her. An eleven-year gap didn’t make much difference, not at her age. She’d be thirty in April, three months from now. Surely she’d be engaged by then.

Unfortunately the message wasn’t from John. It was from Donnalee, who sounded excited and asked Hallie to phone the minute she walked in the door.

Hallie rang her back. “You called?”

“I’ve found the answer,” Donnalee blurted.

“What’s the question?” Hallie grumbled in response; she hadn’t had lunch and was never at her best on an empty stomach.

“Where do we meet the men of our dreams?”

“Hmm.” Her friend certainly had her attention now. “Wher?”

“The answer’s a bit complicated, so stay with me.”

“Donnalee…”

“All I ask is that you hear me out. All right?”

Hallie muttered a reply. This dating thing had been much easier in high school and college. Apparently she’d lost the knack. Oh, there’d been a few romances in the years since, most of them what you’d call short-term. One had lasted the better part of six months, until it, too, fizzled out. The fault, Hallie admitted, had been her own. Gregg had complained about her long hours and her total commitment to Artistic License, and she’d told him that wasn’t likely to change.

“I found an ad in the Seattle Weekly for a dating service,” Donnalee announced.

Hallie groaned. As far as she was concerned, only people who were desperate resorted to dating services. She didn’t even want to think about the kind of men who applied to meet women that way. “You’re joking, right?”

“You promised you’d hear me out.”

Hallie closed her eyes and prayed for patience. “Okay, okay. Tell me all about it and then I’ll tell you I’m not interested.”

“This is different.”

“They use videos, right?”

“No,” Donnalee said indignantly. “Would you kindly listen?”

“Sorry.”

“You and I are successful businesswomen. Most men are intimidated by women like us.”

Hallie wasn’t convinced that was true, but didn’t say so.

“In my case, I’ve been married once and it was a disaster.”

“That was over thirteen years ago.”

“Soon it’ll be fifteen and then twenty, and my whole life will have passed me by. All because I made a stupid mistake when I was barely out of my teens. Hallie, I want a man in my life.”

“The whole nine yards,” Hallie added.

“Children, the house in the suburbs with a white picket fence. Cat, dog, family vacations. I can’t believe I’ve put it off this long! I’d probably still be putting it off if you hadn’t come up with your plan.”

“You’re saying you want me to contact a dating service, too?”

“Would you listen, darn it? First you have to apply and if you’re accepted, you pay a hefty fee and they’ll arrange for you to meet a suitable match. One on the same financial level as you, whose personality fits yours. The woman I talked to claims they’re very selective and only take on a certain number of clients. If you’re accepted, the company is committed to finding you a match.”

“How hefty is the fee?” Hallie had recently forked over fifteen hundred bucks on exercise equipment. So much for paying off her credit cards.

Donnalee hesitated a moment. “Two grand.”

“Two thousand dollars!”

“Yup.”

“I damn well better get a date with Brad Pitt for that.”

Donnalee laughed. “Brad wouldn’t date someone as old as either of us.”

Her friend’s words were of little comfort. “You aren’t serious, are you?” For that kind of money Hallie figured she could have liposuction and forget the treadmill and the dieting.

“Yup,” Donnalee said with a hint of defiance. “I’m thirty-three. I don’t have as much time as you. If this agency can help me find a decent man, then I’d consider the money well spent.”

“You are serious.”

“Just think of it as a shortcut.”

Hallie still wasn’t sold. “I haven’t actually started looking yet.” Using a dating service felt like waving a white flag before she’d even stepped onto the battlefield. Surrendering without so much as a token effort.

“What are you going to do, wear a sandwich board that says AVAILABLE in big black letters?” Donnalee asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’ve had your entire life to find a husband, and you haven’t. What makes you think it’s going to be different now?”

“Because I’m ready.” This probably wasn’t the time to remind her friend that she’d had relationships over the years, the most promising one with Gregg. While it was true that those relationships had grown fewer and fewer, and her social life had become rather dull, she’d barely noticed, working the hours she did. However, since the first of the year, she’d taken measures to correct that, delegating more responsibility to Bonnie Ellis, her assistant.

“And your being ready for marriage changes everything?” Donnalee sounded skeptical. She sounded skeptical a little too often, in Hallie’s opinion.

“There’s a man I’m interested in right now,” Hallie confessed, thinking of John Franklin.

“Really? Who?”

She should’ve guessed Donnalee would demand details.

“A banker,” she answered with some reluctance. “He’s the new loans officer at the Kent branch of Keystone Bank. He transferred this week from the downtown Seattle branch. We met Friday, if you must know. I liked him immediately and he liked me. He’s really good-looking. Sensitive, too.”

“Good-looking and sensitive,” Donnalee repeated.

“Single good-looking men are hard to find,” Hallie insisted, wondering at her friend’s slightly sarcastic tone.

“That’s because the majority of them have boyfriends.”

Hallie paused. John? Was it possible? “Do you know John Franklin?” Since Donnalee managed a mortgage company, she was familiar with many bankers in the area.

“I know of him.”

Hallie’s suspicions mounted. “What do you mean?”

“John Franklin’s the perfect reason you need the services of Dateline.”

“Oh?” Her confidence was shaken.

“You’re right,” Donnalee continued. “John’s sensitive, friendly, personable and handsome as sin. He also happens to be gay.”

Hallie’s spirits sank to the level of bedrock. John Franklin. Hmm. With some men it was obvious and with others…well, with others, it wasn’t.

“So, are you going to join Dateline?” Donnalee asked.

“Two thousand dollars?”

“Consider it cheap since the men are screened.”

“If Brad Pitt’s out, then for that kind of money they’d better come up with royalty.”

“If they do, kid, I’ve got first dibs,” Donnalee said with a laugh.

“I’ll look into Dateline, but I’m not making any promises.”

“Just call and they’ll mail you a brochure. Phone me once you’ve read it over. Promise?”

“Okay, okay,” Hallie mumbled, and wrote down the number. She replaced the telephone receiver and shook her head. Who’d ever have thought this matter of marriage could be so complicated?




Two

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do


S teve Marris’s day wasn’t going well. A parts shipment was lost somewhere in the Midwest, his secretary had quit without notice, and he suspected his ex-wife was dating again. The parts shipment would eventually be found and he could hire another secretary, but the news about Mary Lynn was harder to take.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and noted that it’d been at least a month since anyone had bothered to clean the glass pot. He’d make damn sure his next secretary didn’t come with an attitude. This last one had refused to make coffee, claiming she’d been hired for her secretarial skills—not that they’d been so impressive. And she’d never understood that in his shop, everybody pitched in. No, he was well rid of her.

He sipped the hot liquid and grimaced. Todd Stafford must have put on this pot. His production manager made the world’s worst coffee. Steve dumped it and rinsed his mug, then sat down at his desk, sorting through the papers amassed there until he found the invoice he needed.

Todd opened the door. “You going to sit in here all day and fume about Danielle quitting?”

Todd was talking about their recently departed secretary. “Naw, we’re better off without her.”

Todd came into the office, reached for a coffee mug and filled it. He pulled out Danielle’s chair and plopped himself down, propping his feet on the desk. “If it isn’t Danielle walking out, then my guess is you’re sulking about Mary Lynn.”

His friend knew him too well. “I heard she’s dating again.”

“Heard? Who from?”

“Kenny,” Steve admitted reluctantly.

“You’re grilling your kids for information about your ex-wife?”

“I know better than that.” Steve experienced a twinge of guilt. He hadn’t intentionally asked his nine-year-old if his mother was dating. Kenny had been talking about joining a softball team in the spring, all excited about playing shortstop. He’d wanted his mother to toss him a few balls, he’d told Steve, but she couldn’t because she was getting ready for a date. The kid had Steve’s full attention at that point. It hadn’t taken much to get Kenny to tell him Mary Lynn was seeing Kip somebody or other.

What the hell kind of name was Kip, anyway? Sounded like a guy who traipsed around in ballet slippers.

“So, what’d you find out?”

Steve ignored the question. He didn’t like thinking about Mary Lynn dating another man, let alone talking about it. What had happened between them was painful even now, a full year after their divorce. An idea struck him suddenly, and he marveled at the genius of it. “I wonder if Mary Lynn might consider filling in here at the office until I can hire another secretary.”

“She hates it here,” Todd muttered. He sipped his coffee, seeming to savor every drop. “You know that.”

What his friend said was true, but Steve welcomed the opportunity to spend time with her. She might even tell him about Kip. “It couldn’t hurt to ask,” he returned, sorry now that he’d said anything to Todd.

“You’re divorced.”

“Thanks, I guess I must’ve forgotten.” Steve glared at him, hoping his sarcasm hit its mark.

“It’s time to move on, old buddy. Mary Lynn has.”

Steve rose abruptly from his chair. “Shouldn’t you get to work?”

“All right, so I touched a raw nerve. No reason to bite my head off.” Todd hurried back to the shop, and Steve swallowed his irritation. Damn it, he still loved Mary Lynn. No one had told him how painful this divorce business would be.

They’d been married twelve years and fool that he was, Steve had assumed they were happy. Then, one day out of the blue, Mary Lynn had started crying. When he’d tried to find out what was wrong, she couldn’t say—except that she was unhappy. They’d married too young, she’d missed out on all the fun, all the carefree years, and now here she was, stuck with a husband, kids, responsibilities. Steve tried to understand her concerns, but everything he said and did only made matters worse. The thing that really got him was her claim that she’d never had her own bedroom. As it turned out, that was more important than he’d realized, because she asked him to move out of theirs shortly afterward.

Steve had called her bluff, firmly believing it was a bluff. He’d voluntarily moved out of the house, thinking that would help her “find herself,” something she apparently couldn’t do with him there. She needed to make contact with her “inner child,” become “empowered” or some other such garbage. Okay, maybe he wasn’t the most sensitive man in the world. She became incensed when he suggested she was watching too many of those daytime talk shows. Then, a month or so after he’d left, Mary Lynn shocked him by asking for a divorce. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, they’d each hired lawyers and were soon standing in front of a judge.

By that time, with attorneys involved, things had gotten heated, and he and Mary Lynn were more at odds than ever. It’d taken over a year to even start repairing the damage the attorneys and courts had done. He was sick of living apart from his family. He wanted his wife back.

Never mind what Todd had said—he would ask Mary Lynn to fill in for Danielle. Just until he could hire another secretary. Just until he could convince her that being apart was pure insanity.

Feeling pleased with himself, he reached for the phone. Mary Lynn answered on the third ring. “Hello,” she murmured groggily.

She never had been much of a morning person. “Hi. It’s Steve.”

“Steve. Good grief, what time is it?”

“Nine.”

“Already?”

He could hear her rustling the sheets in an effort to sit up. During their marriage, he’d loved waking her, having her cuddle against him all soft and warm and feminine, smelling of some exotic flower. Their best loving had been in the mornings.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and yawned loudly.

“Nothing. Well, my secretary quit.”

She went very quiet, and he could almost hear her resentment over the telephone line. “I don’t type, Steve, you know that.”

After all those years together, Mary Lynn could read him like a book. He took a certain perverse pride in that. “I need someone to fill in for a few days until I can hire a new secretary.”

“What about getting a temporary?”

“Sure, I could call an agency and they’d send someone out, but I’d rather give you the money.”

“I’ve got school. It isn’t easy for me attending classes all afternoon plus keeping up with the kids and the house, you know.”

“I realize that, but it’d help me out considerably if you came in for a couple of days, just in the mornings. That’s all I’m asking.” Since paying for her education had been part of the settlement, he was well aware of her schedule.

“You always say that!” she snapped.

“What?” This conversation was quickly taking on the same tone as their arguments before the divorce. He’d say or do something that irritated her, and for the life of him, he wouldn’t understand what he’d done.

“You say you realize how difficult my schedule is. You don’t.”

“I do, honest.”

“If you did, you’d never ask me to pitch in while you take your own sweet time finding a new secretary. I know you, Steve Marris. Two days’ll become two weeks and I won’t be able to keep up with my classes. That’s what you really want, whether you know it or not. You’re trying to sabotage my schoolwork.”

Steve choked back an argument. “I understand how important your classes are,” he said. And he did. What he failed to understand was why her getting an education precluded being married to him. Not only that, he wondered what she intended to do with a major in art history. Get a job in some museum, he supposed—if there were any jobs to be had. But he certainly couldn’t say that to her.

“Do you really, Steve?”

“Yes,” he said, still struggling to show his respect for her efforts. “It’s just that I thought since your classes don’t start until one, you might be willing to help out, but if you can’t, you can’t.”

She hesitated and he closed in for the kill.

“All I need is a couple of hours in the morning. And like I said, if you can’t do it, that’s fine. No hard feelings.”

“Do you realize how much reading I have, how many assignments?”

“You’re right, I never should have asked. I guess that’s been the problem all along, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” she agreed sharply. Then there was a pause. And a sigh. “I guess I could fill in for a couple of days, but no longer. I want to make that perfectly clear. Two days and not a minute longer, understand?”

“Perfectly.” Steve wanted to leap up and click his heels in the air. Calling Mary Lynn had been one of his better ideas. He was confident it wouldn’t take long to make her forget all about this other guy.

“I hope you don’t want me there before eight?”

He let the question slide. “You’re wearing the pink nightie, aren’t you?”

“Steve!”

“Aren’t you?” His voice grew husky despite his attempts to keep it even. Some of their best sex had come after the divorce. It was so crazy. Mary Lynn wanted him out of the house but continued to welcome him in her bed. Not that he was complaining.

“Yes, I’m wearing your favorite nightie,” she whispered, her voice low and sexy.

Slowly his eyes drifted shut. “I’m coming over.”

“Steve, no. I can’t. We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because we shouldn’t.”

Steve was instantly suspicious, convinced her decision had something to do with what Kenny had told him. “Why?”

“We’re divorced, remember?”

“It hasn’t stopped us before. I could be at the house in fifteen minutes. You want me there, otherwise you’d never have told me about the pink nightie.”

Mary Lynn giggled, then altered her tone. “Steve, no, I mean it,” she said solemnly. “We’ve been divorced for a year now. We shouldn’t be sleeping together anymore.”

His jaw tightened. “When did you make that decision?”

“Since the last time.”

He exhaled, his patience fading fast. He did a quick review of their last rendezvous. It’d been late morning, before her classes and while the kids were in school. He’d invented some excuse to stop over. Mary Lynn knew what he wanted, and from the gleam in her eye and the eager way she’d led him into the bedroom, she’d wanted the same thing.

He couldn’t imagine what had changed, other than her dating this Kip character. Unfortunately he couldn’t ask her about it or let on that he knew. The last thing he wanted was to put his children in the middle, between two squabbling parents, something he’d seen other divorced couples do all too often. The divorce had been hard enough on Meagan and Kenny without complicating the situation. So their private lives, his and Mary Lynn’s, would stay that way—private. At least as far as the kids were concerned.

“What happened to change your mind about us sleeping together?” he asked, instead.

Mary Lynn sighed. “Nothing. Everything. We have to break this off. It’s over for us, Steve.”

Steve didn’t say anything. He knew his wife—ex-wife—well enough not to argue. Something else he knew about Mary Lynn—she possessed a healthy sexual appetite. As strong as his own.

“You’ll be here in the morning, then?” he said, just to be sure.

“I suppose. But remember I agreed to two days, and two days only.”

“Bring along the pink nightie.”

“Steve!”

“Sorry,” he murmured, but he wasn’t.

He hung up the phone a few moments later, his mood greatly improved.

The rest of his day was relatively smooth. The transport company located the lost shipment in Albuquerque. The parts were guaranteed to be delivered within the next forty-eight hours. The majority of his orders came from a major aircraft builder in the area, for whom he supplied engine mounts, but he also did lathe work, blanchard grinding and other steel-fabrication work for a number of customers. His company was growing, taking on larger and larger orders, and he employed almost a dozen people now.

On the drive home that afternoon, Steve’s gaze fell on his hands—clean hands—gripping the steering wheel. He used to have grease under his fingernails, and that had always bothered Mary Lynn. The irony didn’t escape him. The last year and a half, he’d spent the majority of his time in the office and rarely dirtied his hands. She’d always wanted him to have a white-collar job; when he was finally able to grant her wish, she wanted him out of her life. Damn it all, the machine shop had been good to them—it had bought her house, supported the kids, paid for her education. A little grime around his fingernails seemed a small inconvenience.

The January drizzle grew heavier, and the truck’s windshield wipers beat against the glass, slapping the rain from side to side with annoying regularity. He exited the freeway and headed down the west hill toward Kent. He hadn’t been keen to buy the condominium. If he’d had a choice, he’d be moving back in with his family, but it was going to take longer than he’d first thought for that to happen.

He probably wouldn’t have moved into this complex if he hadn’t grown tired of apartment living. A small apartment was no place for kids, and Meagan and Kenny spent almost every weekend with him.

He would have preferred a real house but living on his own, he didn’t want the bother that went along with it. The condo was a decent compromise. A friend who sold real estate had convinced him it was a good investment. In addition, the builders were offering an attractive buyer-incentive program. The condo was just as nice as the house Mary Lynn and the kids lived in. Not quite as big, but that was okay. The kids liked it, and they’d managed to make friends with his next-door neighbor in short order too, he mused, as he switched off his windshield wipers. The rain had tapered off to almost nothing.

Steve hadn’t met Hallie yet—Meagan had told him her name. From what he’d seen of her, she was an exercise freak. His kitchen window overlooked her living room, and she had a treadmill set up there, alongside one of those stair-stepping machines. Every time he caught a glimpse of her she was working out. She didn’t seem to be enjoying herself, either.

Steve turned into the Willow Woods complex and stopped in front of the two rows of mailboxes aligned at the entrance. It wasn’t until he climbed out of the truck that he saw her. Hallie stood in front of her mailbox studying a large envelope as if she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Howdy, neighbor,” he greeted her, inserting the key into his mailbox.

Startled, she looked up. “Hello.”

“Steve Marris.” He thrust out his hand. “I moved in next door this past weekend.”

She blinked a couple of times. “You’re Meagan and Kenny’s dad.”

“That’s me.”

“Hallie McCarthy.” She placed her hand in his. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same here.”

“You’ve got two terrific kids.”

“Thanks,” he said, and smiled. He felt that way, too.

With a nervous motion, Hallie glanced down at the envelope she still held, then shoved it into her purse. “Well, uh, Steve, I have to go. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”

Steve had caught the logo on the envelope. Dateline. He’d heard plenty about the pricey exclusive dating service. Shortly after the divorce, a well-meaning friend had tried to talk him into signing up, but he’d recoiled at the idea of paying two thousand bucks for a date. He’d have to be a whole lot more desperate than he was now before he’d even consider it.

Hallie raised her head just then. “I…A friend suggested I write for information,” she blurted. Her cheeks had turned a bright shade of pink. “I’d never…” She paused, squared her shoulders and gave him a smile that was decidedly forced. “I want you to know I don’t need any help finding a man.” Head high, with a dignity Princess Diana would have envied, Hallie McCarthy walked to her car. However, the speed with which she drove off kind of spoiled the effect.

Watching her leave, Steve slowly shook his head. Maybe he should steer the kids away from her. She seemed nice enough, but a little on the weird side.




Three

Seven Down, Three To Go


A rare burst of February sunshine showered Puget Sound, and after weeks of being cooped up inside for her daily exercise routine, Hallie decided to take advantage of this respite from the rain. She donned one of the three coordinated running outfits she’d purchased; it was a lovely teal green with a hot pink racing stripe up the outside of the legs and a geometrical design decorating the zippered jacket. If nothing else, Hallie knew she looked great—and she felt great. Seven of those ten unwanted pounds had vanished. Not without considerable effort, however.

She wasn’t entirely confident that those pounds were gone for good. Were they hiding around the corner, waiting for her to lower her guard? One day away from the treadmill or succumbing to the temptation of a chocolate-chip cookie and they’d be back. Which was why she’d been so rigorous about her diet and exercise regimen. Three pounds to go, and she’d weigh the same as she had at her high-school graduation, more years ago than she cared to remember.

Goal weight. What perfectly lovely words they were.

She hoped she’d manage to achieve it before Valentine’s Day. She’d set the target date back in January, giving herself ample time to reach her physical best. Already she’d let a few select friends—the ones who’d wanted to line her up with their single brothers, unattached male acquaintances and recently divorced colleagues—know she was in the market for a meaningful long-term relationship. She hadn’t heard back yet, but it was still early.

She opened the front door and stepped into the welcome sunshine. It didn’t take long to realize she wasn’t the only one outside enjoying the warmth.

Her next-door neighbor and his son were playing catch in the front yard. She was afraid she’d started off on the wrong foot with Steve Marris, but wasn’t sure how to correct that. Of all the rotten luck for him to see the envelope from Dateline! Her mistake had been not keeping her mouth shut. Oh, no, that would have been too easy. She had to go and blurt out some stupid, embarrassing remark. She wanted to groan every time she thought of it.

“Hi, Hallie.”

Steve’s daughter raced over to her. With no other kids around her age, Hallie thought, Meagan must get restless spending weekends with her father.

“Howdy, kiddo. What’re you up to?”

“Nothing,” she said in a bored voice. “Dad’s teaching Kenny how to be a great shortstop. I don’t like baseball much.”

“Me, neither,” Hallie said. It wasn’t that she disliked sports; she just didn’t understand the big attraction. A bunch of guys racing around a field or across some ice, all chasing a ball or whatever—what was the point?

Hallie raised her hands above her head and slowly exhaled before bending forward and touching her fingertips to the walkway. She wasn’t sure of the reason for this, but she’d seen runners do it before a race, and she supposed they knew what they were doing. Warming up or something.

After a month on the treadmill, averaging two miles a day on a preset course that simulated a run on hilly terrain, Hallie thought she was ready for one real-life mile. From her car speedometer, she knew it was exactly half a mile to the entrance of Willow Woods. She figured she should be able to run there and back without a problem. Actually she hoped she wouldn’t work up too much of a sweat, fearing it would leave marks on her new running suit.

“What are you doing now?” Meagan asked, watching her go through a series of bends and stretches.

“Getting ready to run.”

“You run?” The kid seemed downright impressed.

“Sure.”

“How far?”

“A mile.” That was as much as she wanted to tackle her first time out. If it went well, she might consider longer distances later.

“Can I come, too?”

“If it’s all right with your dad.” Hallie shook her arms, then placed her hands on her hips while she rotated her head.

Meagan quickly ditched her bike on Hallie’s lawn and raced toward her brother and father.

Hallie felt almost smug. Watching “Wild World of Sports” with Gregg had taught her something, after all. Or was that “Wide World of Sports”? She heard Meagan hurriedly ask permission and felt Steve’s scrutiny before he agreed.

“Dad said I can,” Meagan shouted, racing back.

In deference to Meagan, Hallie set a slow rhythmic pace as she started down the road. Meagan picked up the tempo as they rounded the first corner. Within minutes, Hallie became winded. That was understandable, she told herself, since they were running uphill. By the end of the third block, she felt the strain.

“It isn’t a race,” Hallie gasped when she found the oxygen to speak.

“Oh, am I going too fast for you? Sorry.” Meagan immediately slowed down.

An eternity passed before the brick-walled entrance came into view. “I…think I’m…wearing the wrong…kind…of shoes,” Hallie panted. She stopped, braced her hands on her knees and greedily sucked in as much air as her aching lungs would allow.

There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with her shoes, and Hallie knew it.

“You okay?” Meagan looked worried.

“Fine…I feel great.”

“Can you make it back? Do you want me to run and get my dad?”

Hallie wasn’t about to let Steve Marris see her like this. She straightened and, with effort, managed to smile and act as if nothing was amiss. The burning sensation in her lungs made it nearly impossible to breathe normally. The good news was that the trek back was downhill. The bad news was that she was half a mile from home with an eleven-year-old kid who could run circles around her.

“I’m sure my dad wouldn’t mind. He’s real understanding.”

Hallie lied through her teeth. “I’ll be fine, no problem.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” Leave it to a kid to humiliate her. As for not sweating, that was a lost cause. Perspiration poured out of her, soaking her hair, beading her upper lip and forehead.

She made a respectable showing on the way back, jogging past her neighbor and his son toward her front porch. She collapsed on the top step and tried to look as if she’d been enjoying herself, which was something of a trick considering she felt like a candidate for CPR.

“Aren’t you going to cooldown?” Meagan asked.

“I thought I’d take a shower.”

“Dad says you’re supposed to walk after a run and give your body a chance to catch up with itself.” Meagan strolled about, and Hallie joined her, soon discovering that, yes, this part of her workout she could handle. A cool breeze refreshed her, and after a couple of minutes her heart settled back into place.

After thanking Meagan for the company, Hallie turned to enter the house and saw a familiar car round the corner. Donnalee. Pleased to see her, Hallie waved. Both women led busy lives, and although they talked on the phone practically every day, they weren’t able to get together nearly as often as they would have liked.

Donnalee was tall and svelte, a striking woman with thick shoulder-length auburn hair. She unfolded her long legs from the car and stood, wearing her elegance naturally, as much a part of her as her soft Southern drawl. They’d met through a mutual friend five years earlier and quickly become friends themselves. Their friendship had grown close; Hallie had much more in common with Donnalee—especially when it came to attitudes and values—than with her college friends. Most of them had married, and some were already on second husbands—while Hallie had yet to find a first. And she wanted her husband to be her first and last. She wanted a marriage like her parents’.

As professional businesswomen, Donnalee and Hallie shared a great many similar experiences. Over the past couple of years they’d become a support system for each other. If Hallie was having trouble with an employee or a customer or just about anything else, it was Donnalee she talked to. If Donnalee had a problem, it was Hallie she phoned. That they should both feel a need, at the same time, to change the focus of their lives didn’t surprise Hallie. Their thoughts often followed the same paths. They read the same books, enjoyed the same movies, had many of the same tastes. In fact, two years earlier they’d gone shopping separately and purchased the same pair of shoes. The only difference was the color.

Hallie was a personable sort, and she’d had a lot of friends from the time she was in kindergarten, but she laughed more with Donnalee than she ever had with anyone. Laughed and cried. Donnalee was that kind of soul friend. That kind of real friend.

“Did you call them?” Donnalee asked.

“You know I did.” Hallie opened her front door and led the way into the kitchen. She might have lacked culinary skills—she was the first to admit it—but she compensated for that with her artistic flair. The room was bright and cheery, decorated in yellow and white with ivy stenciled along the top of the walls. Hallie removed a plastic bottle of springwater from the refrigerator and poured herself a glass. Her throat felt parched.

Donnalee pulled out a stool at the kitchen counter and declined Hallie’s offer of water with a quick shake of her head. “What’d you think?”

“About the brochure?” Hallie decided to break the news quickly, before Donnalee could talk her into signing up. “I’m not going with Dateline.”

Donnalee didn’t bother to hide her disappointment. “You haven’t talked to them, have you? Because if you had, you’d realize that this is the only practical way to break into the marriage market these days. It isn’t like when we were in college, with eligible men in every direction.”

“I know that, but I want to try it by myself first.” Two thousand bucks wasn’t anything to sneeze at, and Hallie figured the least she could do was try to meet someone on her own before resorting to spending big bucks. Besides, Donnalee made more money than she did; she could afford Dateline. Hallie’s plan was to give it her best shot and wait to see what happened before maxing out her American Express card.

“I called Rita,” Hallie confessed. Rita was the mutual friend who’d introduced Hallie to Donnalee. She had a reputation for being both unpredictable and romantic, and she wasn’t above arranging dates for her friends.

Looking mildly worried, Donnalee leaned forward. “You didn’t tell her I went to Dateline, did you?”

“No, don’t worry. That’s our little secret. All I said was that I had sort of an awakening this Christmas and decided it’s time I committed myself to a long-term relationship.” She smiled at the memory of their colleague’s reaction. “Rita has this theory about my sudden desire to meet a man. She thinks it has to do with losing my dad, so she says I might end up in a situation I’ll regret.” Hallie shrugged comically. “After all these years of her pushing me to date one man or another, I would’ve figured she’d be pleased to know I was serious about getting married.” Hallie paused, remembering the conversation. “When I told her I was ready for a family, she suggested I find myself a guy with good genes, get myself pregnant and dump him.”

“Rita said that?”

Hallie nodded. “Awful, huh?” She liked Rita, made an effort to keep in touch, but they were basically very different kinds of people. For instance, Rita prided herself on saying the most outrageous things.

“I guess that’s an idea if all you want is to have a child,” Donnalee said hesitantly.

“Which I’m not. I’d also like a husband. I’m no fool—I watched my sister with Ellen and I don’t know how she managed. A newborn demanded every minute of her time, even with Jason and Mom and me all helping. Fortunately for her, Jason’s one of those really involved fathers. I don’t know how any woman can manage alone. It’s more than I want to attempt.”

“Me, too,” Donnalee agreed, her drawl more noticeable than usual. Donnalee had moved from Georgia when she was thirteen, but had never quite lost the accent. Unexpectedly she grinned. “Can you imagine us as mothers?”

“Yes,” Hallie said, although it seemed a stretch. She wondered if other women their age went through this. If so, it wasn’t a subject her single friends discussed often or frankly. Many were like Donnalee, divorced and gunshy. Hallie didn’t have that excuse.

“Guess what? Dateline called me yesterday,” Donnalee said, avoiding eye contact. She fiddled with the leather strap of her purse, opening and closing the zipper, a sure sign she was nervous. “They came up with a match for me.” She darted a look in Hallie’s direction.

“Already?” Hallie hated to say it, but she was impressed.

“They faxed over the pertinent information and asked me to review it and call back. So I did. Then Sanford phoned me an hour later and I’m meeting him for dinner this evening.”

“Sanford?”

“I know. The picture of a stuffy conservative type immediately comes to mind, doesn’t it, but then we spoke and…”

“And?” Hallie prodded when her friend didn’t continue.

“He seems, I don’t know, ideal.”

“Ideal?” Dateline was beginning to sound better every minute.

“I’m frightened, Hallie. I felt the same way about Larry when I first met him, but what the hell did I know? I was nineteen and away from my family for the first time. I probably would’ve welcomed attention from a serial killer.”

Donnalee didn’t mention her ex very often. He’d dumped her for another woman after their first year of marriage. Donnalee’s self-esteem had been shattered and her ego left in shreds. It’d taken a decade to regroup, and even then Hallie wasn’t sure some of the damage wasn’t permanent. She could appreciate her friend’s fears and said so.

“But it’s different this time,” Hallie assured her. “You’re not a kid governed by hormones.”

“No, I’m thirty-three and governed by hormones.”

They both laughed, and then Donnalee took a deep breath. “Okay. Sanford’s thirty-six and an insurance company executive. No priors.”

“You mean he doesn’t have a police record?” Hallie certainly hoped not!

“Means he’s never been married. It’s Dateline lingo.”

“Oh.” So the outfit even had a specialized vocabulary. Interesting. Or maybe not.

“We couldn’t stop talking,” Donnalee went on. “Sanford felt the way I did. We both signed up for Dateline the same week. He was just as nervous as I was about doing it. We were at work and we talked for more than half an hour. You know, he put me at ease right off and he said I did the same for him. It was as if we’d known each other all our lives. He loves Tex-Mex food, the same as me. He lives on a houseboat, which I’ve always thought of as wildly romantic. He’ll watch anything Emma Thompson’s in and reads Steve Martini novels. Can you believe it? I know this is all surface stuff, but it helps to know we’re compatible. And at least we have lots of things to discuss.” She broke into a radiant smile. “He was just as surprised and pleased after talking to me. We had trouble saying goodbye.”

“He lives on a houseboat?” This guy was beginning to appeal to Hallie, too. Maybe if it didn’t work out, Donnalee would consider introducing her.

“Now do you see why I’m a nervous wreck?”

Hallie nodded. She wouldn’t be any less nervous herself.

“He sounds too good to be true,” Donnalee moaned. “The minute I meet him, it’ll be over.”

“You don’t know that.” Hallie tried to sound confident, but she shared her friend’s fears. There had to be a flaw in this guy somewhere. People weren’t always what they seemed, and it was often the small undetectable-to-the-naked-eye character defects that threw her.

“At first I wondered why someone this successful and charming hadn’t been married,” she continued, as if thinking out loud, “but his letter explains all that.” At Hallie’s questioning look, she added, “Dateline enclosed a letter he’d written to introduce himself. He’s been waiting to marry because he wanted to pay off his college loans. Financial security is important to him. I respect that. Dateline makes it a policy to check their clients’ credit records. It’s part of the agreement before your application’s accepted.”

Hallie knew immediately that the minute Dateline got hold of her credit card statements, she was headed for the reject pile.

She was about to say as much when the phone rang. Hallie reached for the receiver and through her kitchen window caught a glimpse of Steve Marris with his son. He was showing Kenny how to hold a softball.

“Hello.”

“I hope you appreciate this,” Rita said without preamble.

“Appreciate what?”

“I found you a potential husband,” Rita announced. “Are you interested in meeting him?”




Four

First There Was Paul, Then George…


S teve glanced at his watch again, although he knew it’d been maybe five minutes since the last time he’d looked. He was wrong. It was three minutes. Almost five o’clock Sunday afternoon and Mary Lynn was late picking up the kids, which could mean only one thing.

She was with this faceless, spineless Kip character.

Steve had gotten his ex-wife to admit she was dating again. That was the reason she’d cut him off physically, although she’d been reluctant to admit it. Probably wouldn’t have, if he hadn’t cornered her. It left him wondering whether she was sleeping with Kip, but for reasons having to do with his sanity, he didn’t pursue the thought. If she was, he didn’t want to know.

As for his idea about using Mary Lynn as a replacement secretary, it didn’t turn out to be so brilliant, after all. Mary Lynn was ten times worse in the office than Danielle had ever been. He knew she wasn’t much good around a computer terminal, but he hadn’t realized she didn’t know how to answer a phone. Another few days with her and he’d be out of business. She’d filed invoices, instead of mailing them, and managed to insult one of his biggest accounts. It didn’t take Steve long to recognize his mistake. He quickly hired a new secretary, wrote Mary Lynn a generous check for her trouble and took her to lunch. While still in her good graces, he followed her home, thinking—despite her telling him the sex had to stop—that they’d head for the bedroom the way they normally did when he dropped by in the middle of the day.

But she’d meant it when she’d said no sex. And she’d also told him she was seeing Kip.

Once he’d persuaded her to confess she was dating again, he couldn’t shut her up. She’d met Kip in a bookstore, she told him, smiling at the memory. Steve knew his ex, and she’d never been a reader, which was probably a detriment when it came to school. He couldn’t imagine her buying books for pleasure, something she considered a waste of money. It was clear that her sudden interest in them had nothing to do with enjoyment. Mary Lynn had been looking to meet eligible men. Steve had heard that the singles scene had moved out of the bars and into the bookstores; he supposed this proved it.

Although she’d been more than willing to tell him about meeting the new love of her life, Mary Lynn had kept quiet about what they did together. Curious he might be, but Steve refused to grill his children about their mother’s activities. His gaze shifted to the two kids. Meagan and Kenny were curled up in front of the television watching a Disney video. Neither seemed to notice or care that their mother was late.

He stared out his living-room window. His neighbor was outside vacuuming her car, and he smiled, remembering her embarrassment when she realized he knew she’d been talking to Dateline. So Hallie McCarthy was on the prowl. He wished her well. As far as he could see, she shouldn’t have much of a problem finding a husband. She was actually kinda cute. Petite with dark brown hair that she wore in short curls. She had a nice face, and she seemed friendly, approachable. Certainly Meagan had taken to her right away. Hallie was just fine in the figure department, too.

He wasn’t sure where she worked, but it must be in an office. They’d crossed paths a couple of times in the mornings, and she always maintained a professional appearance. He guessed her to be in her mid to late twenties. Possibly thirty, but he doubted it.

If he had any interest in dating, which he didn’t, Steve would be more attracted to her friend. Now there was a looker. He’d been outside, horsing around with Kenny, when she’d arrived, and he’d practically dropped the ball. The woman was all legs. They went on and on. Shapely legs with a body to match. But Mary Lynn was beautiful, too. With his thoughts back on his ex-wife, Steve moved away from the window.

“Your mother’s late,” he said, hoping he sounded casual and unconcerned.

“Kip’s taking her to a wine-tasting party,” Meagan murmured. Her eyes grew huge, as if she’d said something she shouldn’t.

“It’s okay. Your mother told me she was dating Kip.” Steve didn’t want his children worrying about what they did or didn’t say.

“She told you about Kip?” This seemed to surprise his daughter.

“Yeah.” He sat down between the two kids on the couch and draped his arms around their shoulders. “I bet it’s a little weird to have your mother dating again, isn’t it?” If he was upset about Kip, then it made sense his kids would be, too. He wanted to reassure them that, no matter what happened, they could always count on him.

“Not really,” Kenny said, not taking his eyes from the television screen. “She’s gone out lots before.”

She has ? This was news to Steve.

“First there was Paul, then George.”

What about Ringo? Steve scowled.

“None of them lasted very long,” Meagan supplied.

“And Kip?” Steve wanted to jerk the words away the moment he uttered them.

“Mom really likes Kip,” Kenny said.

“How do you feel about him?” Again this was a question that bordered on the forbidden, but Steve couldn’t keep himself from asking. This was his wife’s—all right, ex-wife’s—boyfriend they were talking about, and ultimately that involved his children.

“Kip’s okay,” Kenny responded with a shrug. “But he doesn’t know much about baseball.”

That bit of information cheered Steve considerably. Kip had taken Mary Lynn to a wine-tasting party. Steve liked wine, too, but he preferred drinking it to spitting it out—wasn’t that what they did at wine-tastings? Not once in their twelve-year marriage had he thought of taking Mary Lynn to something like that. On the other hand, she’d never told him such affairs interested her. One thing was certain, he’d spit wine if it’d help win back his ex-wife.

Steve heard a car door slam and leapt up, racing toward the front door. Mary Lynn was climbing out of her van, and it struck him how happy she looked. Some of that joy faded when she saw him. The words to inform her that she was late died on the tip of his tongue. Mary Lynn could tell time as well as he could. She knew she was late, and reminding her would only serve to widen the rift between them. He wanted to build bridges, not tear them down.

“Did you have a nice afternoon?” he asked, pretending he didn’t know she’d been with Kip.

“Wonderful. How about you?”

“Great. Kenny’s going to make a helluva shortstop.”

Mary Lynn grinned. “Like father, like son.” She glanced past him to the condo. Kenny and Meagan were at the door. “You ready, kids?”

“Why don’t you come inside?” Steve invited. “You haven’t seen the place since I decorated, have you?”

Mary Lynn snickered. “I don’t call moving the dirty-clothes hamper out of the living room decorating.”

“Hey, I’ve got a real sofa and chair now. And a dining-room set.”

“I heard, and I applaud you for replacing the patio furniture and the card table. That’s progress.” She motioned for Meagan and Kenny, who trudged past him, carting their overnight bags.

Steve gave them each a quick kiss.

“Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, Dad.”

Soon his family was inside the van. Steve remained on the sidewalk, waving when they pulled away. He buried his hands in his pants pockets and watched the vehicle disappear.

After a moment he returned to the empty house.



Donnalee was definitely, undeniably nervous. She’d arrived at the restaurant half an hour early for the simple reason that she didn’t want to be the one to search out and identify Sanford. This way, she hoped to have a few moments to appraise him without his knowing.

After thirteen years, Donnalee was finally ready to marry again. But that meant meeting men, going through the whole process of acquaintance and courtship—maybe more than once. Apart from some casual and ultimately meaningless dates, she hadn’t been involved with a man since her marriage. If she wanted to fall in love again, she had to lower her defenses, make herself vulnerable.

That was the terrifying part. She should have gone into counseling following her divorce. Intensive counseling. Any smart woman would have done that. Well, it’d taken Donnalee far longer to get smart than it should have, but she was there now. Savvy. Worldly. Mature.

Those were the very qualities that appealed to Sanford. He’d told her so during their telephone conversation. She sat at the table, facing the door, eyeing everyone who entered. His picture had shown him to be an attractive dark-haired man with strong classical features—but, as Donnalee knew, studio portraits were often deceiving.

A restaurant was neutral territory. Sanford was the one who’d chosen this upscale Mexican restaurant, located in the heart of downtown Seattle. Judging by the succulent scents drifting from the kitchen, he’d chosen well, although Donnalee wondered how she’d manage to swallow a single bite.

A tall distinguished-looking gentleman entered the restaurant and hesitated. Donnalee quickly lifted a pair of glasses from her lap and slipped them on, then peered toward the door. Like an idiot, she’d lost the last of her disposable contact lenses down the bathroom drain and had to resort to her old glasses. But Sanford had seen her picture, too, and he wouldn’t recognize her wearing glasses, so she donned them only when absolutely necessary.

He spoke briefly with the hostess and darted a glance in her direction.

Donnalee lowered the glasses to her lap again and squinted hard. Unbelievable. He even looked good blurred. It was him. It had to be him. If she’d been nervous earlier, it was nothing compared to the way she felt now. As for all her self-talk about being worldly and mature, she felt no evidence of those qualities at the moment.

He approached her table. “Donnalee?”

“Sanford?”

His slow easy smile relaxed her. “Your photo doesn’t do you justice.”

“Yours doesn’t either,” she murmured, meaning it.

Grinning, he pulled out his chair and sat down.

That was the start of the most fascinating night of her life. Hours later, when she phoned Hallie, Donnalee was still in a dreamy swoon. “He’s fabulous. Just fabulous. We talked and talked and talked. We were at the restaurant until midnight. They had to boot us out, so we found someplace else for coffee and talked some more.”

“What time is it?” Hallie asked, with a loud yawn.

Donnalee would never have phoned this late if Hallie hadn’t left three urgent messages, demanding she call the minute she got home. “Two o’clock.”

Hallie gasped. “You mean to say you just got in? But this was just your first date.”

“I know.” Try as she might, Donnalee couldn’t keep the wistful tone out of her voice.

“He’s not there with you, is he?” Hallie’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“No. Good grief, what kind of woman do you take me for?”

“A woman who’s been too long without a man! Was he everything you hoped?”

“More. Hallie, I can’t believe it! He’s warm and gracious, romantic and so much fun. I could have talked to him all night. We walked along the waterfront and held hands.”

“Did he kiss you?”

“Yes…and I even told him about Larry.” The subject of her divorce wasn’t something Donnalee discussed freely or often, and certainly nothing she’d intended to talk about on her first date. When she’d mentioned it to Sanford, she’d made light of it. The marriage was a mistake, she was too young to know what she was doing, that sort of thing. It amazed her how easily he’d read between the lines. His hand had tightened around hers and he’d stopped. With the breeze off Puget Sound ruffling her hair and the ferry gliding across the dark waters, its lights a glittering contrast to the night, he’d placed his hand under her chin and raised her eyes to his. Then, ever so gently, he’d kissed her.

Donnalee didn’t elaborate on the kiss. Hallie was her best friend, but some things you kept private.

“Are you seeing him again?”

“Tomorrow. Today,” Donnalee amended. She’d planned to play this cautiously, and she still would but…she liked this man, liked him so much it frightened her. It was all happening too soon.

“You’re really crazy about him, aren’t you?” Hallie sounded almost disappointed. Surprisingly, Donnalee understood. She knew her friend didn’t begrudge her happiness; Hallie just hadn’t expected her to find the right man this effortlessly. Frankly, neither had Donnalee. So far, Sanford was…perfect. She realized it was too early to say he was the person she should marry—but marriage was a distinct possibility.

“What about you?” Donnalee asked. The last time she’d talked to Hallie, she’d agreed to meet with Rita’s husband’s friend. The one Rita had declared the ideal match for Hallie. “Did Marv phone?”

“Precisely at seven.”

“Isn’t that when Rita suggested he call?”

“Yes, and that worries me. He seems to carry this punctuality thing to extremes.”

“He’s an accountant, so what do you expect? How’d he sound?”

Hallie giggled. “Like an accountant. He couldn’t squeeze in a date with me until next Thursday night.”

“It’s tax season,” Donnalee reminded her. “What do you expect?” she said again.

“I don’t know. Going out with a guy named Marv doesn’t exactly thrill me.”

“You might be surprised. I had a preconceived idea about Sanford, remember?”

“Do people actually call him that?”

“Apparently so. He said when he was a kid, his friends called him Sandy, but that just didn’t suit him anymore. He said I could call him Sandy if it made me more comfortable. But he doesn’t look like a Sandy. He looks like a Sanford. It’s a perfectly respectable name, and so is Marv.”

“Marv,” Hallie repeated slowly. “You’re right. It’s not a bad name.”

“Not at all.” Neither of them pointed out that Hallie had gotten a date—without paying two thousand dollars for the privilege.

“How long did you two talk?”

“A minute,” Hallie murmured, “two at the most. He’s on a schedule.”

Donnalee was beginning to understand her friend’s qualms. “Don’t be too quick to judge him. Who knows, he might turn out to be Mr. Wonderful.”

“Why am I having trouble believing that?”




Five

Bachelor #1


February 20

Tonight’s the night. I’m meeting Marvin—Marv. It goes without saying that I shouldn’t count on this blind date, but I can’t help myself. Not after the way I’ve worked to turn myself into a desirable enticing woman, irresistible to mortal man.

Yes, I’m at goal weight. It would have been easier if I’d blasted away those ten pounds with dynamite, but they’re gone, which is reason enough for celebrating. Marv’s taking me to the Cliffhanger, a pleasant surprise. The fact that I actually have a dinner date (with someone Rita feels is perfect!) excites me. I have faith in networking. Donnalee is delighted with Dateline, as well she should be for two thousand bucks, but I prefer to tackle this dating thing on my own. So far so good, although I haven’t actually met Marvin—Marv. We’ve talked a couple of times and he sounds…interesting.

It isn’t like I’ve spent the last six years in a vacuum. Dating isn’t exactly a new experience.

But now, I’m looking at each man as a potential husband and father. Not that I’m going to ask for a sperm count or character references, but there are certain traits I want in a man.

Commitment is a biggie to me. I want to do this marriage thing once, and only once, so I plan to do it right.

This date with Marv is the beginning of a journey, though I can’t say exactly where this journey will take me. My, oh my, I do get poetic. I’ll write tomorrow after I meet Marv. I only hope Rita knows me as well as she thinks.

H allie was going to annihilate Rita. The instant she opened the door and met Marv, she had her doubts. For starters, he didn’t look like she’d expected—or Rita had implied. Not like Sean Connery at all. More like Elmer Fudd. And he wore a checkered bow tie.

She wasn’t the only one disappointed. Marv seemed dissatisfied, too. So much so that Hallie wondered what Rita had told him about her.

“You must be Hallie,” Marv said, stepping inside her home. He glanced around like an appraiser, as though tallying the worth of her furniture and personal effects.

He was so short—that wasn’t his fault, though Rita might’ve warned her—she was a good two inches taller without wearing her heels. But his brusque unfriendly attitude was another matter. If he’d bothered to greet her with a smile, she would have felt differently. Instead, he scrutinized her the way he had her furnishings, without emotion, without warmth.

“Would you like a glass of wine before we leave?” she asked, hoping her first impressions had been wrong, willing to give the evening a try, if for nothing more than the fact that she’d spent almost a hundred dollars on her dress. Besides, he was taking her to her favorite restaurant, one she could seldom afford on her own. Any man who invited her to dinner at the Cliffhanger was probably redeemable.

He declined her offer of wine, explaining severely, “I’m driving.”

“Coffee, then?”

“Decaffeinated, please.” He helped himself to a chair while she got their drinks. He pinched his lips in disapproval when she returned with a mug for him and a wineglass for her. If this was how the evening was going to continue, she’d need that wine. Maybe she should bring the bottle with her; a swig now and again was bound to improve her mood—if not his.

“I understand Rita’s husband works with you,” she said, hoping to cut through the awkwardness and salvage this so-called date.

He nodded. “You’re a friend of Rita’s, correct?”

“Uh, correct.”

“You’ve known her how long?” he asked, removing a pad and pen from inside his suit jacket.

“Rita?” She frowned, wondering why he felt this information was important enough to warrant documentation. “Oh, for years. Actually we’ve known each other since college. Nine or ten years, I’d guess.”

“I see.” He entered the fact on the pad. “You’re how old?”

“Twenty-nine.” Hallie took a restorative sip of her wine.

“Never been married?”

“No. What about you?” she asked, gritting her teeth. She hadn’t agreed to an inquisition, and this was definitely beginning to resemble one.

He ignored her question. “You own a graphic-arts business?”

“That’s right.” She felt as if she was filling out a credit application. “Look. Is there a reason for all these questions?”

“I prefer to have significant background information on any woman I date.”

“I…see.” She almost wished he’d asked how much she weighed. For once in her life, she would’ve been happy to tell someone.

He flipped the book closed and reached for his coffee. “Overall, I rate you at seven and a half.”

“You’re rating me?” She was furious enough to throttle him, and they hadn’t so much as left the house.

“I do every woman I date.” He grinned suddenly and the movement of his mouth softened his expression.

“Do that again,” Hallie said, waving her finger at him.

He frowned, destroying the effect.

“Smile,” she demanded.

He complied, then immediately lowered his gaze, and Hallie realized he was actually shy. He hid behind the questions and his ratings and obnoxious demeanor. Knowing this made her slightly more sympathetic toward him.

He helped her on with her coat and opened the car door for her. Hmm. Good manners were gentlemanly. Things seemed to be improving. They were on the freeway, with Marv driving at a predictably cautious speed, when she first heard the engine rattle.

“What was that?”

Marv scowled and pretended not to hear her or the noise.

“Sounds to me like there’s something wrong with your car,” Hallie pressed.

He took his eyes off the road long enough to glare at her. “My car is in perfect running order.”

Uh-oh, the date was going downhill again. “I’m sure you take good care of your car,” she said soothingly. “But I’m telling you I hear something that doesn’t sound right.” Whatever the problem, it didn’t delay them. They arrived five minutes ahead of their reservation time. Hallie figured that if Marv chose to ignore signs of engine trouble, there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

The Cliffhanger was perched on the side of a high bluff that overlooked Commencement Bay in Tacoma. Everything about the restaurant was first-class. Hallie smiled with pleasure.

Once they were seated, however, and the waiter had taken their order, Marv removed the pen and pad from his pocket again. He read over his notes, then said, “I have a few more questions for you.”

“More?” She didn’t bother to disguise her irritation.

“I’ll get through the questions as quickly as possible. I hope you don’t mind, but it’ll help me later when I make my decision.”

When he made his decision? Did he think she was applying for the opportunity to marry him? “Decision,” she repeated. “What decision?”

“Unlike others, I prefer to choose my wife based on facts rather than feelings, which I think are completely unreliable. Since marriage is a long-term contract, I believe it’s necessary to gather as much information as I can. I understand that you, too, are in marriage mode, so this evening can be beneficial to us both.” He held her gaze for a moment. “I have to tell you, Hallie, you’re getting good marks.” The tips of his ears turned red and he cleared his throat before saying, “You’re quite…attractive, you know.”

The compliment mollified her—although she had to admit she was a little shocked by his blatant approach to this date. And to the matter of marriage.

“It doesn’t hurt that you’re in a financially superior position,” he added, ruining any advantage he’d gained.

“Financially superior?” Her? Now that was a joke if ever she’d heard one.

“You own your own business. That puts you several points ahead of the others.”

“Exactly how many others are there?”

“That’s, uh, privileged information.” He smiled lamely, unfolding a computer printout. “We’ve finished with the preliminaries. Let’s get into your family background now.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Medical history, things like that.” He sounded impatient. “It’s important, Hallie.”

“All right, all right,” she muttered, resigned to the fact that their dinner was going to be one long interview. Thank goodness their appetizers had just arrived. While she had the waiter’s attention, she ordered a glass of wine. Marv frowned and wrote a lengthy note. “What do you want to know?”

They’d discussed heart disease, alcoholism and mental illness by the time their salads were served. Surely the entrées couldn’t be far behind! But before she tasted a single bite, he was making inquiries about STDs, fertility and childhood illnesses. Hallie had finally reached her limit. This guy wasn’t shy, nor was he hiding behind a pad and pen. He calculated everything down to the size of her panty hose.

“Any problems with—”

She held up both hands. “Stop!”

“Stop?”

“I’m finished answering your questions. You aren’t going to find a wife by interviewing for one. I thought this was a dinner date so we could get to know each another.”

“It is,” he argued. “I’m getting to know you by asking questions. What’s wrong with that?” He made another notation, writing furiously.

“What was that?” she demanded.

“Attitude. I’m beginning to have my doubts about you in that category.”

Hallie pushed aside her half-eaten salad. “You have your doubts. Listen, buster, I’m not answering another question. This is ridiculous—a woman wants to be wanted for who she is, not what she has to offer in the way of good genes!”

Her outburst appeared to unsettle him. “But you’ve rated the highest of anyone.”

It was a sad commentary on the state of her ego that she was flattered by this. “Thank you, I appreciate that, but I refuse to spend the entire evening talking about my grandmother’s arthritis.” Now was as good a time as any to break the news. “I’m sorry, Marv, but I don’t think this is going to work.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to say that. Although your attitude is a bit problematic, I find myself liking you. Once we know each other better, you’ll value the effort I went through to gauge our compatibility.”

“I believe I’ve already gauged it. Unfortunately, we aren’t the least bit compatible.” She tried to be gentle, to tell him in a way that left him with his pride intact. “I have my own test, so to speak, and I can tell that a relationship between us simply isn’t going to work.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” For emphasis she nodded.

Marv didn’t blink, didn’t even put up a token resistance. Instead, he closed his pad, placing it inside his suit jacket, and refolded his printout. “Well, then,” he said, “I’m relieved you recognized it this soon. You’ve saved us both a considerable amount of time and effort.”

Hallie congratulated herself for not rolling her eyes.

Neither spoke, and before long Marv reached for his pad again. Now he seemed to be jotting down numbers—but Hallie didn’t ask.

Finally he glanced up. “You might be interested in knowing that out of a possible one hundred points, you scored a seventy-six for the opening interview.”

“Really?” She’d be sure and let her next date know that.

“But I have to agree—it wouldn’t work.”

Their dinner arrived, and Hallie savored the silence as much as she did the blackened salmon. Marv seemed equally engrossed in his meal; in a restaurant noted for its steak and seafood, he’d ordered liver and onions.

After declining dessert, Hallie decided to turn the conversational tables on him. “What about your family’s medical history?” she asked. It wouldn’t surprise her if there was a case or two of mental illness.

“Fit as a fiddle. I have one grandfather who lived to be ninety.”

“Longevity runs in the family, then?”

“On my maternal side. It’s difficult to say about the paternal.” The waiter brought the bill and Marvin grabbed it. “Unfortunately, very little is known about my father’s people.” He launched into a lengthy dissertation on what he’d managed to learn thus far. Ten minutes into it, Hallie yawned.

Marvin stopped midsentence and pulled out a pocket calculator. “Did you have three or four of the crab-stuffed mushrooms?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The appetizer,” he said, his finger poised above the calculator keypad.

“Three.”

“You’re sure?”

“Was I supposed to have counted?”

“Why, yes.” He appeared surprised that she’d ask.

Hallie stared in shock as he tallied the dinner bill and stated, “Your half comes to forty-five dollars and thirteen cents, including tip.”

“My half?”

“Why should I pay for your dinner?” he asked. “You said yourself that we’re incompatible.”

“Yes, but…you asked me out.”

“True. Nevertheless, it was with the unspoken agreement that this date was between two people interested in pursuing a relationship. You aren’t interested, therefore, your half of the dinner bill comes to…” He appeared to have forgotten and looked down at his calculator.

“Forty-five dollars and thirteen cents,” she supplied.

“That includes your portion of the tip.”

Disgusted, Hallie picked up her purse. It wouldn’t do any good to argue. Luckily she had two twenties and, yes, a five, which she kept hidden for emergencies. The thirteen cents practically wiped her out.

With nothing more to say, they left soon afterward.

Hallie heard the car well before the valet drove it into view. She glanced at Marv, wondering if he’d ignore the clanking sound this time. He did.

Rather than point it out again, Hallie climbed inside and steeled herself for a long uncomfortable ride home. She wasn’t far from wrong. When they reached the interstate the engine noise had intensified until even Marv couldn’t miss it.

“What was that?” he demanded, as if she was somehow responsible for the racket.

“Your car?” She was unable to avoid the sarcasm.

“I know it’s the car.”

“There’s no need to worry,” she said, parroting his words, “your vehicle’s in perfect running order, remember?”

“Correct. Nothing could possibly be wrong.” Then he cursed and pulled off to the side of the freeway. Smoke rose from underneath the hood, billowing into the night.

“Oh, dear,” Hallie murmured. This didn’t look good. The way things were going, he’d probably make her pay for half the tow truck, too.

Marv slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “Now look what you’ve done.”

“Me?” Of all the things he’d said, this was the limit. The final insult. “I have a few questions for you,” she snapped. “When was the last time this car had an oil change? A tune-up? Did you bother with antifreeze this winter?”

Marv leapt out of the car and slammed his door.

Hallie got out, too, shutting hers just as hard.

He glared at her over the top of the hood. “I don’t find your attempts at humor the least bit amusing.”

“The biggest joke of the night was my agreeing to go out with you!” The cold wind whipped past her and she tucked her hands into the pockets of her coat. Unfortunately, she’d worn a flimsy coat, more of a wrap, because its jade green went so well with her new dress. Her wool coat hung in the closet. The only thing she had to keep her warm was her anger—and so far, it was working.

“Until I met you, my vehicle was in perfect running order.”

“Are you suggesting I put a hex on it?”

“Maybe you did,” he growled.

Hallie seethed, crossing her arms. “You’re the rudest man I’ve ever met!”

His eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned. It wasn’t until then that she realized how deeply she’d insulted him. Marv obviously prided himself on his manners—opening the door, helping her on with her coat, those gestures so few men observed these days. Well, she’d take a normal man who let her open car doors over Marvin anytime!

“If that’s how you feel,” he said stiffly, “you can find your own way home.”

“Fine, I will.” She carelessly tossed out the words, slapped her silk scarf around her neck like Isadora Duncan and started walking, high heels and all.

This wasn’t the smart thing to do, Hallie soon realized. She was chilled to the bone, blinded by all the headlights flashing by and, dammit, one of her heels chose that moment to break off.

At least it wasn’t raining.




Six

The Loan Ranger


T he ringing woke Steve out of a sound sleep. He rolled over, thinking the incessant noise was his alarm. He hit the switch, but it did no good. Then he noticed the time. Eleven-thirty. What the hell?

He sat up and realized the irritating sound wasn’t his alarm clock but his doorbell. He grabbed his jeans and pulled them on as he hobbled into the living room. He had no idea who was calling on him so late at night—but the last person he expected was his next-door neighbor.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Hallie said, her eyes desperate in the pale porch light. A scruffy-looking fellow hovered behind her, and a taxi stood parked in her driveway. “Could I borrow twenty dollars?” she pleaded. He stared at her. “Just until tomorrow afternoon,” she added.

“Sure,” he said, and reached in his hip pocket for his wallet, extracting a bill.

“Thank you,” she breathed, then whirled around to give the taxi driver his money. “I told you you’d get paid!” she said fiercely.

“You can’t blame a guy for doubting. You wouldn’t be the first lady who tried to stiff me.”

“Well…thanks for bringing me home.”

The cabbie handed her a business card. “Sure, lady. Listen, the next time some guy dumps you on the freeway, give me a call and I’ll make sure you get home.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, sending an embarrassed glance in Steve’s direction. She waited until the driver had left before explaining. “Really, it’s not as bad as it looks.” Nervously she pushed a trembling hand through her tangled hair. “I’ll get the twenty dollars to you after work tomorrow afternoon. I…I quit carrying my credit cards and didn’t have my ATM card with me,” she explained, rushing the words. “It took all my cash to pay for my half of dinner.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I promise to have the money back by tomorrow. You have my word on that.”

He grinned. “I said not to worry about it.”

“At this point, it’s a matter of pride.” She turned away and limped toward her own condo. It took him a moment to realize the heel on one of her shoes had broken off.

“Hallie?” he called out, curiosity getting the better of him. “Do you want to come in for coffee and tell me what happened?”

She paused, and he knew she was tempted to accept. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take a rain check on the coffee. I’m fine, really. It was just a date gone bad.”

“From Dateline?”

“No. I decided against…I didn’t sign up with them. This was a date arranged by a friend. A former friend.” She filled in a few of the details: the questions, the restaurant bill, the car. He listened sympathetically, nodding now and then, marveling at her ability to laugh at her situation.

“Don’t let it get you down,” he advised.

“I won’t,” she said, and although she looked disheveled and pitiful, she managed a weak smile. “It’d take more than a pudgy accountant to do that.”

“Good girl.” He waited until she was all the way inside her house before he closed his own door. Only then, did he allow himself to laugh. He had to hand it to Hallie McCarthy. The lady had grit.



“What’s so funny?” Todd asked Steve the following morning.

“What makes you think anything’s funny?” Steve leaned over a pile of metal shavings to avoid meeting his friend’s gaze. Todd was right; his mood had greatly improved. It was because of Hallie, he suspected. Every time he thought about her and that jerk accountant, he found himself grinning from ear to ear. No wonder he wasn’t eager to get back into the dating scene. It made far more sense to win back his ex-wife. He only hoped Mary Lynn met up with a few of Hallie’s rejects. Then maybe she’d realize he wasn’t so bad, after all.

“You’ve been wearing this silly grin all day.” Obviously Todd wasn’t about to let the subject drop.

“Would you rather I stormed around making unreasonable demands?”

“Nope,” Todd admitted. Then he shrugged. “You ready for lunch?”

“Sure.” Steve packed his own now, same as he had when he was married—which meant he picked up something at the deli on his way into work. He and Todd headed for the small room adjacent to his office, stopping to let Mrs. Applegate, his new secretary, know he was taking his lunch break. She was working out well. He’d found her through a business college. She was older, described as a displaced homemaker, whatever that meant. But Mrs. Applegate appreciated the job and worked hard.

“Would you care for a cup of coffee with your lunch?” she asked.

“Please.”

“That woman’s going to spoil you,” Todd commented as he sat down across from Steve. He pulled a submarine sandwich from his lunch pail and peeled away the wrapper.

“I’m going to let her, too.” In comparison to Danielle and Mary Lynn, Mrs. Applegate was a paragon—organized, efficient, cooperative. He wondered how he’d ever managed without her.

“Now tell me what’s so damn funny,” Todd said after the coffee had been served. “I could use a good laugh.”

“My neighbor.” Steve could see no reason not to relay the events of the night before. “Apparently she’s on the hunt for a husband.”

“What’s she look like?”

“Why? You interested?”

Todd took a big bite of his sandwich and chewed vigorously as he considered his response. “I might be.”

“You? It wasn’t so long ago you told me you wanted nothing to do with women.”

“Some women. Go on, I want to hear what happened to your neighbor.”

“She got me out of bed at eleven-thirty last night and asked to borrow twenty bucks. The guy she’d been with acted obnoxious all evening—even made her pay for her own meal. Plus he had car trouble, blamed it on her, then dumped her on the freeway and told her to find her own way home. Which she did.”

“Good for her.”

“That’s what I said.” He bit into his pastrami-on-rye and found himself smiling again as he recalled Hallie’s story. She’d done a hilarious imitation of this Marv guy demanding his forty-something dollars.

“You like this neighbor of yours, don’t you?”

“Like? What do you mean?” Sure he liked Hallie. What wasn’t to like? But he had no romantic interest in her, and there was a difference.

“Are you going to ask her out?”

“Naw,” he answered, dismissing the suggestion. “She’s not my type.”

“Exactly what is your type?” Todd pressed.

“Damned if I know.” The only woman he’d ever loved had been Mary Lynn. She was all he’d ever wanted, all he’d ever thought about. That wasn’t going to change.

His answer appeared to satisfy Todd, who nodded. “Same way I feel. I might date again, and I might not. Sure as hell, the minute I start getting serious about a woman I’ll run into problems, just like I did last time. So I figure, if I meet someone, fine. Great. But I’m not going out of my way.”

Steve frowned as he listened to Todd. It distressed him that Mary Lynn seemed to be involved with another man, and according to his kids, had been dating for some time.

“You look upset,” Todd remarked.

Steve set his sandwich aside, his appetite gone. “Mary Lynn’s seeing someone.”

“I know, you told me earlier. You’ve been divorced a year or better—what did you expect?”

“I expected her to see the light,” Steve muttered.

“Well, it’s not going to happen. She wanted out of the marriage. And as far as I can see, nothing’s changed.”

“When did you become an expert on my relationship with my ex-wife?” Steve asked irritably. They’d had this discussion before, and it irked him that his friend saw things differently. More than anyone, Todd knew he hadn’t wanted the divorce. More than anyone, Todd knew he loved Mary Lynn as much now as he had the day they’d married.

Todd threw up his hands in disgust. “Let’s drop it, all right? I butted in where I didn’t belong. You want to moon over Mary Lynn, for the rest of your life, then be my guest.”




Seven

Make Mine A Double


“D onnalee Cooper’s holding for you on line two,” Bonnie said. Hallie stared at the blinking phone. It wouldn’t help to put it off any longer. Her friend had a right to know—even to gloat.

“Hi, Donnalee,” she said with forced cheerfulness.

“You didn’t phone,” Donnalee accused. “What happened?”

“You don’t want to hear.”

“I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t. I haven’t got much time, either. I’ve got clients due in five minutes, so cut to the chase, will you?”

“Okay, then—gloat. This guy was a jerk. Big time. He wanted to investigate my family genes to make sure I was qualified to bear his children. When I told him I didn’t think we clicked, he made me pay for my half of the dinner. Then his car broke down on the freeway and I was stuck finding my own way home. To add insult to injury, I had to get my neighbor out of bed and borrow twenty bucks to pay the cabdriver.”

A lengthy pause followed her condensed version of the previous night. Hallie suspected Donnalee had covered the receiver with one hand to hide her laughter.

“Well?” she challenged. “Say something.”

“Okay,” Donnalee replied slowly. “Are you ready to invest in Dateline yet?”

“No.” Hallie was determined to pay off her credit cards, not add another two thousand dollars to the balance. “Besides, I have another date.”

“Who?” Donnalee—predictably—sounded skeptical.

“Bonnie’s uncle Chad.” Bonnie had mentioned him early in January, but Hallie had wanted to be at her best before agreeing to a date with him. “You know that old saying about getting back on the horse after you fall off? Well, I accepted a dinner invitation this very morning.”

“When are you seeing him?”

Hallie didn’t know what to make of Donnalee’s tone. It was a mixture of wonder and patent disapproval. “Soon,” Hallie said. “Monday night.” Actually she wondered how smart this was herself. Monday was only three days away.

Chad Ellis had sounded nice enough over the phone, and Bonnie had said he was her favorite uncle. Someone related to a member of her trusted staff seemed a safe bet—especially after the disastrous Marv.

“Did you go out with Sanford last night?” The change of subject was deliberate.

“Yes—and it was wonderful. He’s a dream come true,” Donnalee said with the same wistful note she used whenever his name was introduced into the conversation.

“Have you talked to him today?” Hallie didn’t know why she insisted on torturing herself.

“He sent me a dozen red roses this morning.”

“Roses?” Hallie was almost swooning with envy. While Donnalee was being courted and pampered, she’d been grilled for hours and then abandoned on the freeway.

“I’m falling in love with this guy,” Donnalee confessed. “Head over heels.”

“So am I, and I haven’t even met him.”

Her friend chuckled. “I wish you’d reconsider Dateline. Chad might be Bonnie’s uncle, but how much do you really know about him?”

“Just what Bonnie told me. He’s divorced, has been for five years. He sells medical equipment and is on the road quite a bit, but he’ll be back in town after the weekend. For a while, anyway.” She wasn’t sure if that was luck or fate. Their one all-too-brief conversation had taken place that morning. He sounded…interesting. Which, come to think of it, was the same word she’d used following her telephone chat with Marv.

“If you don’t call me Tuesday morning, I’ll track you down and torture the information out of you,” Donnalee warned.

“I’ll phone,” Hallie promised. No date could possibly be as awful as the one with Marv. Sheer chance assured Hallie that the odds of Chad’s being a decent date were good.

At this point she wasn’t even looking for Mr. Right. Mr. Almost Right would satisfy her nicely. If she’d learned anything from the experience with Marv—and she had —it was that she needed to lower her expectations. No Mr. Knight-In-Shining-Armor was going to gallop up to her front door. On her way home that evening, Hallie stopped off at the bank for cash. Her ATM card remained in her bottom dresser drawer, along with her credit cards—safe from temptation.

Wanting to put the task of repaying her neighbor behind her, Hallie headed directly for his condo after she parked her car. His lights were on and she assumed he was home, but it was Meagan who answered the door. “Hi, Hallie!”

“Hi, Meagan. Is your dad there?”

“Yeah. He’s in the shower. You can wait, can’t you?”

“I don’t actually need to talk to him.” She pulled the twenty-dollar bill out of her purse. “Would you give this to him?”

“Sure.”

“Give me what?” Steve strolled barefoot into the hallway, wearing jeans and an unbuttoned plaid shirt. A damp towel was draped around his neck, and his dark hair glistened with water. “Oh, hi, Hallie.”

“Hi.” She smiled weakly, embarrassed about their last meeting.

“Hey, Dad,” Kenny shouted, leaping off the sofa. “Hallie brought you twenty bucks. Let’s go out for pizza, okay?”

“Uh…” Steve hesitated.

Meagan’s eyes were as bright as her brother’s. “Can Hallie come, too?”

“I…can’t. Really.” Hallie looked over her shoulder at her empty condo, tempted to suggest she had places to go, people to meet. It would have been a lie. “I just wanted to repay the loan and thank you for coming to my rescue. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t answered the door.” Well, she would have managed—she would’ve retrieved her bank card from the bottom drawer and…But Steve had saved her time and spared her inconvenience. She’d been in no shape to go driving around with a seriously annoyed cabbie, looking for a bank machine.

“Can we go out for pizza, Dad?” Kenny asked again, his hands folded in prayerlike fashion. “Please, please, please?”

“I don’t see why not,” Steve relented, grinning. He turned to Hallie. “You’re welcome to come along. Actually, I wish you would. The kids will desert me for the video games the minute we arrive and I’ll be stuck sitting there with no one to talk to.”

She wavered. Even if she didn’t have any plans, she didn’t want to intrude.

“Please come!” Meagan urged.

“Sure,” Hallie said before she could change her mind. Although it wasn’t the thought of her empty condo or equally empty refrigerator that persuaded her. It wasn’t even Meagan’s invitation. It was the pizza. Pizza, loaded down with cheese, spicy sausage and olives. After nearly two months of exercise, after week upon week of eating lettuce and vegetables, skinless chicken and Dover sole, she deserved pizza. She’d walk an extra mile on her treadmill, but heaven help her, she wanted that pizza.

“I’m glad you decided to come,” Meagan told her when they arrived at the local pizza parlor, a five-minute drive away. To Hallie’s relief, Steve had taken his car—not his truck, which he’d left at work.

The place was filled with Friday-night family business, the noise roughly equal to that of a rock concert. While Steve stood in line at the counter to order their dinner, Hallie steered the kids toward one of the few empty tables.

Steve returned five minutes later with two soft drinks, a couple of beers and a pile of quarters. Kenny’s eyes lit up like the video games he loved and he reached forward to grab the coins. “Twelve quarters each,” Steve said, gazing sternly at his offspring. “And they have to last you all night. Once they’re gone, they’re gone. Got it?”

“Got it.”

The quarters disappeared along with Meagan and Kenny.

Steve sat down across the picnic-style table from Hallie. She spread one of the red-checkered napkins on her lap, aware that it was taking her an inordinately long time to do so.

“It was kind of you to invite me,” she finally said, slightly uneasy at being left alone with Steve. To her surprise she found herself revising her earlier estimation of him. He was really quite good-looking. Funny she hadn’t realized that earlier. The fact that he’d been willing to help her out only added to the attraction.

“Hey, I appreciate the company. Mary Lynn and I used to bring the kids here once a month. Meagan and Kenny would like to come more often, but I feel stupid sitting by myself.”

“What about trying your hand at the videos?”

“Are you kidding? It’s an invasion of territory. None of the kids want me there. The one time I tried it I was banished and sentenced to sit out here with the rest of the parents.”

Hallie smiled. She’d half expected him to ask her more about her awful date and was grateful he didn’t.

They each talked about their jobs, which took all of five minutes. Their discussion of the weather took less than one. A not-uncomfortable silence followed before Steve spoke again.

“Listen, you can tell me to mind my own business, but why was a gal like you going out with a creep like that?”

She sighed. She might as well level with him, seeing that he’d already had her groveling at his front door in the middle of the night, needing a loan. “I guess you’ve gathered I’m trying to meet a man. I, uh, decided this was the year I’d get married.”

His head came up and his eyes narrowed. “Women decide this sort of thing?”

“Not all women,” she told him. “It’s just that I’m turning thirty in April, and—”

“Hey, thirty isn’t old.”

“I know, but I’m not really sure where my twenties went, if you know what I mean. I was busy, happy, working hard, and then one day I woke up and realized most of my friends were married, some for the second time. My dad recently died, and my younger sister just became a mother.” She struggled to explain. “Somehow, things changed for me. My goals. My feelings about what’s important in life. For years, I threw all my energy into my work—and now I want…more. I want someone to share it with.”

“So you figure marriage is the answer.”

“Something like that.” Hallie shrugged comically. “I’ve been dating since I was sixteen, and not once in all that time did I ever meet anyone like Marv. It’s appalling how slim the pickings are. You see, Donnalee made it look easy.” Maybe Donnalee was right; maybe she should reconsider Dateline.

“Is she the friend who stopped by your place a couple of Saturdays ago? The one with the long…the tall one?”

Men rarely had a problem remembering Donnalee. “That’s her. She found Prince Charming after one date.”

“You mean to say she isn’t married?”

“Not yet. She’s the person who suggested I sign up with Dateline. She plunked down her money, and first time out she met this fabulous guy. From everything she said, he’s wonderful.” Hallie couldn’t hide the wistful longing in her voice. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she was married by summer.”

“Slim pickings,” Steve repeated, and Hallie wondered if he’d heard anything else she’d said. He became aware of the lull in conversation and cast her an apologetic look. “I was just thinking over what you said about available men. My ex-wife is starting to date and frankly—” he paused, grinning broadly “—it wouldn’t hurt my feelings any if she was to meet up with the joker you went out with last night. Maybe she’d be more willing to talk about the two of us getting back together.”

“You want to patch things up with your ex?”

Steve nodded, and his eyes held hers sternly, as if he anticipated an argument.

“I’m impressed.” In Hallie’s opinion, too many families were thrown into chaos by divorce. It did her heart good to know there were men like Steve who considered it important to keep the family intact.

Predictably, Meagan and Kenny arrived within seconds of the pizza. The biggest pizza Hallie had ever seen. Pepperoni, sausage, mushroom and black olive. Her favorite. For a while, there was silence as they all helped themselves to huge slices.

When they’d eaten their fill, Steve and Kenny went to find a cardboard container for leftovers. Meagan smiled at Hallie. “I’m glad you came with us,” she said again.

“I’m glad you asked.”

“Kenny and I like this place, but we don’t come often because Dad gets lonely without Mom here.”

It wasn’t the first time Hallie had noticed Meagan worrying about her father. Her tenderness toward him was touching, and Hallie squeezed the girl’s shoulders. “I hope your parents get back together,” she said.

“Kenny and I used to talk about it a lot.”

“Your father certainly loves your mother.”

“I know.”

But Hallie noticed that the girl’s eyes dimmed as she spoke, and she wondered what that meant.

“Mom’s dating Kip,” Meagan said. “Dad knows. Kenny and I weren’t going to tell him, but he knows. Mom is…I don’t know, but I don’t think she wants Dad back. She likes Kip and gets upset if we try to talk to her about Dad. She said that sometimes people fall out of love, and that’s what happened with her and Dad.”

Hallie was a little uncomfortable with these confidences. “Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to,” she said, wanting to reassure the girl and afraid she was doing a poor job of it. It was clear that Meagan loved both her parents, and like every child, wanted them together.

“I like that,” she said, biting her lower lip. “Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.” A smile brightened her pretty face. “I’ll remember that, Hallie. Thanks.”




Eight

Bachelor #2


I t was déjà vu all over again, as a baseball great—often quoted by her father—used to say.

Hallie sat across the linen-covered table from a man she normally would’ve crossed the street to avoid. “Sleazy” was the word that came to mind. Chad Ellis had hair combed from a low side part to disguise his baldness; it contained enough grease to avert an oil shortage that winter. He wore a suit coat with a bright floral-print shirt unbuttoned practically to his navel and no fewer than fifteen gold chains in various lengths. He looked up from the menu and flashed her a smile that said she was lucky to be with him. Hallie had trouble believing that her own assistant, someone who knew her and presumably liked her, could possibly believe she’d be compatible with this clown.

Hallie reviewed the menu selections, keeping an eye on price. If she was going to end up paying for her half of dinner, she wanted to be sure she ordered a meal she could afford.

Chad made his selection and set aside the menu. “How about a little something to loosen our inhibitions?” he suggested. The thought of loosening anything with this character terrified her. “Such as a double martini.”

Hallie had ordered a martini once, and the only thing worth remembering was the olive. “Uh, I’d like mineral water.”

He jiggled his eyebrows a couple of times. “Liquor is quicker.”

A blind person could read the writing on the wall with this one. She chanced a look in Chad’s direction and her stomach tightened. This creep was Bonnie’s uncle? Did her assistant honestly think she was that desperate?

The waiter arrived and Chad ordered a double martini, while Hallie chose a Perrier. They both ordered their meals—seafood pasta for her, steak for him. “You aren’t nervous, are you, cupcake?”

She gritted her teeth. “The name’s Hallie.”

“Women like pet names.”

“Not this woman.” Hallie was determined not to get into an argument with him until he’d paid the bill, but she wasn’t sure she’d last that long.

“Chad said you’re—”

“Chad said?” Then understanding dawned. “If you aren’t Chad Ellis, who the hell are you?” She was almost shouting.

“All right, all right. Damn, I should’ve known I couldn’t pull this off. Chad had to leave town unexpectedly and he asked me to fill in for him. My name’s Tom Chedders.”

“I was supposed to have dinner with Chad Ellis!” Her blood heated to the boiling point. That Chad had lacked the decency to tell her he couldn’t meet her and sent a stranger in his stead was all she needed to know about him.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have a good time with me,” Tom told her, glancing around to make sure they weren’t attracting attention. “Chad will vouch for me. We’ve been good buddies for a lot of years. We work for the same company.”

“Why didn’t you tell me right away who you were?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t have dinner with me if I did,” he said. “Like I told you before, I’m an all-right kind of guy. No need to get bent out of shape, now, is there?” He flashed her a toothy grin.

Hallie wasn’t sure. “I would’ve preferred it if you’d been honest with me from the beginning.”

He did at least look mildly guilty. “You’re right, I should’ve, only…I didn’t want to give you an excuse to cancel. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance.”

Hallie sighed deeply. “Let’s be honest with each other from now on, okay?”

“Scout’s honor.”

“You were a scout?”

He shook his head. “Nah, they were a bunch of sissies, far as I was concerned.”

“I see,” she muttered, and gazed yearningly toward the front door. The evening could prove to be a very long one indeed.

“So you’re divorced,” Tom said, then thanked the cocktail waitress with a wink and a quarter tip. It took him a moment to turn his attention back to Hallie.

“No, Chad must have misunderstood. I’ve never been married.”

She’d say one thing for Tom. He had the most expressive eyebrows she’d ever seen. Right now, they rose all the way to his hairline. “Never married. What’s the matter with you?”

“The matter?”

“There’s gotta be a reason a pretty gal like you never married. Well, never mind, I’m going to take good care of you, sweetie pie. You and me are gonna have fun.”

Hallie sincerely doubted that. “The name is Hallie,” she reminded him, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “Not cupcake or sweetie pie or anything else.”

He gulped down his double martini and raised his glass in the direction of the bar to signal for another. “Whatever you say, darlin’.”

Hallie ground her teeth in an effort to maintain her composure. “How long have you been selling medical equipment?” she asked, striving to sound interested.

“I don’t. Now before you get all upset again, I didn’t lie. I work for the same company as Chad, only on the pharmaceutical side. I sell condoms.”

A lump of ice went down her throat whole. “Condoms?” she choked.

“Yep. We’ve got ’em in all kinds of flavors. Our flavor for February is cotton candy. We’ve got ’em in all colors, too.” He stared at her intently, and Hallie shuddered. “White’s the top seller, though. Can you believe it? Why would anyone choose white over candy-apple red?”

“I couldn’t tell you.” Hallie slid a guarded look in both directions, praying no one could hear their conversation. “Do you mind if we discuss something else?”

“Sure,” he responded amiably. “I do a brisk business in laxatives, as well. Won the top salesman award two years running.” He laughed as if what he’d said was uproariously funny. “Laxatives…running. Get it?”

Ha. Ha. Ha. “No,” she said flatly. Hallie’s head was starting to pound in earnest now, and she knew she couldn’t go through with this. Even if she ended up paying for a meal she didn’t eat, she couldn’t stand another minute in this man’s company. “Tom, listen, I’m really sorry, but this isn’t going to work.” She set her napkin on the table and reached for her purse.

He assumed a hurt little-boy look. “Not going to work? What do you mean?”

“I was expecting to meet Chad Ellis, not you.”

“Gee, I thought we were getting along just great. What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it.”

“In this instance I think it might be best to leave well enough alone.”

“But I thought, you know, that you and I would get together later.” He did that jiggling thing with his eyebrows again.

“Get together?”

“You know. In bed.”

“Bed?” She said it loudly enough to attract the attention of the maître d’. “Let me assure you right now,” she hissed, “that I’m not interested in going to bed with you.”

“That’s not what Chad said.”

“What did Chad say?” Bonnie was going to hear about this.

“That you were hot for a real man—and, baby, I’m the one for you. I can teach you things you ain’t never gonna see in a textbook. I haven’t been in the condom business all these years without learning a few tricks of the trade, if you catch my drift.”

His drift came straight off a garbage heap, in Hallie’s view. “I don’t know what to say, Tom. You’ve been misinformed. I’m not even mildly lukewarm as far as you’re concerned, and I’m not interested in any of your…lessons.”

“You mean you were willing to let me wine and dine you—but you weren’t gonna give me anything? I thought this was a bread-and-bed date.”

“What I’ll give you is money for my meal.” She pulled out her wallet and threw a fifty-dollar bill on the table. Her fingers tightened around her purse strap. “Good night, Tom. I wish you well.” She couldn’t in good faith tell him it had been a pleasure to meet him. It had been an experience she didn’t want to repeat. An experience she wasn’t likely to forget. No more blind dates, she swore to herself. It wasn’t only discouraging, it was getting too expensive.

“Good riddance. I’ll find a real woman, one who knows how to satisfy a man.” She noticed that he snatched up the money and shoved it in his pocket.

As Hallie walked out of the restaurant, she felt every eye in the place on her.

“Would you like me to call you a taxi?” the receptionist asked.

Hallie nodded, then with a sinking sensation, she checked to be sure she had enough cash to cover the fare. No, that fifty was all she’d had—and her pride wouldn’t allow her to run back to Tom Chedders and demand change. It looked like she was going to need another loan from Steve.

“Your cab will be here in a few minutes,” the receptionist told her with a sympathetic smile.

“Thanks.” She glanced toward the door, groaning at the thought that Steve might not be home. She’d better phone him first.

Not knowing his phone number, she called directory assistance. The way her luck was going, she was afraid he’d have an unlisted number. But the operator found it and Hallie released a sigh of relief.

Steve answered on the first ring in a lazy I’ve-been-sitting-here-waiting-for-your-call voice.

“Hi,” she said, deciding to ease into the subject of another loan, rather than blurting out the sorry details and throwing herself on his mercy.

“Hi,” he responded.

Hallie suspected he didn’t recognize her voice. “It’s Hallie, from next door.”

“Yeah, I know.” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t it be easier to stick your head out the kitchen window and yell?”

“I’m not at home. I went out on another blind date.”

“Not with that same jerk?”

“No—I found an entirely new jerk. I just walked out on him and I don’t have enough cash for the cab fare home. Could I take out another loan?” It humiliated her to ask, but she had no option. “This’ll be the last time it ever happens, I promise you.”

“Where are you?”

“Some restaurant—I don’t know where.” Dumb. Next time she’d pay attention. Next time she’d bring her own car.

“I’ll come and get you.”

“No.” That was the last thing she wanted. “I appreciate the offer, but I refuse to let you go to that trouble.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

The taxi arrived and Hallie rattled off her address, climbed into the back seat and closed her eyes. The urge to give in to tears was almost overwhelming.

Naive and stupid. That was the way men viewed her. Well, no wonder. You’d think she’d have learned something the first time around—but no, all her credit cards and her bank card were still at home. Though who would’ve guessed this would happen twice?

Steve’s front door opened the minute the taxi pulled up in front of her place. He loped across the lawn and took out his wallet.

“How much do you need?”

“Eighteen bucks. I’ll have it for you tomorrow after noon.”

He paid the driver, who promptly left. “You all right?”

Steve asked.

“No,” she admitted, “but I will be soon enough. Thanks for the loan. Again.”

“Hey, what are neighbors for?” He smiled, patting her gently on the back.

Hallie unlocked her front door and walked into her darkened home. She tossed her purse on the sofa, switched on the lights and headed straight for the phone in her kitchen.

Donnalee answered immediately. “You’re right,” Hal lie said without preamble.

“I love hearing it,” Donnalee said, “but I’d like to know what I’m right about.”

“Dateline. I’m calling them first thing in the morning.”

Her announcement was followed by a short pause.

“What happened?”

“You don’t want to know and I don’t want to tell you.

Suffice it to say I’d pay Dateline double their normal fee if they could find me a halfway decent man.”

“Oh, Hallie, you poor thing. I’m sure there’s someone out there for you.”

“I’m sure there is, too, and at this point I’m willing to pay for the privilege of meeting him.”




Nine

Bingo!


March 20

They say the third time’s the charm. Well, I’m charmed. Dateline took long enough finding me a match, but Mark Freelander was worth the wait. We met last night for the first time. I drove to the restaurant myself—Donnalee advised me to arrive early—only to discover that Mark had, too. We laughed about that.

I was nervous, but Mark put me at ease. I like him. That on its own is a scary thought. I know it’s too soon to tell, but I could see myself married to someone like Mark. He’s intelligent, well mannered and just plain nice. The kind of guy my mother would approve of. Dad, too, if he were here.

Mark’s an engineer, divorced, no kids. The fact that he was willing to invest two thousand dollars to find the right woman tells me he’s as serious about this matter of marriage as I am. We’re seeing each other again soon.

I can hardly wait.

H allie rolled her grocery cart over to the display of fresh tomatoes and carefully made her selection. She wanted everything to be perfect for this dinner. She’d been dating Mark for two weeks now, and he’d teased her into agreeing to cook for him. Granted, her expertise in the kitchen was severely limited, but she knew how to grill a decent steak. Her antipasto salad—thick tomato slices, mozzarella cheese, Greek olives, roasted red pepper and salami—was impressive; even her mother said so. Add baked potatoes and steamed asparagus, and she’d come off looking like a younger, slimmer version of Julia Child.

“Hey, Dad, there’s Hallie.”

Hearing her name, Hallie turned to find Steve shopping with his kids. His cart was filled with frozen pizza, canned spaghetti and a dozen or so frozen entrées.

“Howdy, neighbor,” Steve called out.

“Hi, guys,” Hallie replied, pleased to see them. “How’s it going?”

“Great,” Steve said. “I haven’t seen you around lately.”

“I’ve been putting in a lot of extra time on a project at work and—” she beamed as she said it “—I’m seeing someone.”

“Seeing someone?” Steve prompted.

She looked around and lowered her voice. “I signed up with Dateline. They put me together with Mark.”

“Congratulations. I knew you’d eventually land on your feet.”

“Thanks. Mark and I’ve been seeing each other a couple of weeks now, and so far so good.” She held up both hands, fingers crossed.

“Hey, Dad, ask Hallie,” Meagan urged, pulling on her father’s sleeve. “She’d be perfect.”

“Yeah, Dad, you can ask Hallie,” Kenny said excitedly.

Steve ignored the pleas and would have moved on if Hallie hadn’t stopped him.

“Ask me what?”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

Clearly he was lying. “Steve!”

“All right, all right.” He didn’t seem too eager to elaborate. “Would you mind if we talked about this over a cup of coffee?” He gestured at the small round tables set up in front of the grocery-store deli, which sold sandwiches, salads and hot drinks.

“Sure.” Hallie had to admit to being curious. She followed the Marris family to the deli; while she made sure their carts weren’t blocking the aisle, Steve purchased two cups of coffee, plus hot chocolate for the kids.





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