This Matter Of Marriage (8 page)

March 20

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.

His son and daughter sat down with them, Meagan waiting patiently for her father to speak. Kenny, less patient, kicked at the legs of his chair.

With a quelling frown at his son, Steve asked Hallie, “Do you bowl?”

“Bowl? As in ball and pins?” Hallie said. “Yeah, I guess, although it's been a few years.” She hadn't been all that adept at bowling, but then she'd never been athletically inclined.

“What was your average?”

“Well, I could generally knock down three or four pins. Why?”

“Dad needs a woman who can bowl,” Kenny explained.

Steve darted his son another quelling look. “I prefer to do this myself, all right?” He turned back to Hallie. “I'm part of a couples bowling league, and since my marriage breakup my sister's bowled with me. Unfortunately her husband was transferred to Wichita last month and she had to drop out of the league just before the tournament.”

“Dad needs a female partner for the tournament,” Meagan clarified.

“Oh,” Hallie muttered, her heart sinking. She was sure she'd be more of a liability to Steve than a benefit. Heaven knew she owed the guy, but she wasn't sure he'd appreciate the kind of help she could give him.

Steve noted her hesitation. “Don't worry about it, Hallie. It's no big deal. I'll find someone.”

“It's just that I don't think I'd do you any good. Like I said, I haven't bowled in years.”

“It'd just be one afternoon.” Again it was Meagan who spoke. “You could bowl one afternoon, couldn't you?”

“Surely there's someone better qualified than me?” she asked hopefully. Maybe she could rope Bonnie into helping him. Her assistant was due a little penance.

“Nope,” Kenny said. “Dad's already asked everyone he knows.”

“Kenny, Meagan,” Steve said gruffly, “Hallie says she can't do it. Let's leave it at that, shall we?”

“But…but we could teach her,” Meagan persisted. “She can't be that bad.” So said the girl who'd run circles around her.

“Well…” Hallie felt herself weakening. Twice this man had come to her rescue, and not once in the weeks that followed had he reminded her what a fool she'd made of herself. That in itself demanded her consideration.

“I'd be willing to give it a try,” she offered, gesturing vaguely. “The kids are right. All I probably need is a refresher course. And, really, one afternoon isn't going to hurt. It's the least I can do after all the help you've given me.”

“So you will?” Steve asked, sounding pleased.

“Like I told you, I'm going to need a little coaching first.”

“No problem,” Steve replied. “How about Friday night? We'll take the kids bowling and then go out for pizza.”

“When's the tournament?”

“The next day—Saturday afternoon.”

“Okay.” Hallie hoped she didn't live to regret this. “I'll mark my calendar.”

“I knew Hallie would do it!” Meagan grinned.

“Glad to help,” Hallie said, and swallowed tightly. “What are neighbors for?”

 

The dinner with Mark went even better than she'd dared hope.

He arrived with a bottle of her favorite wine and a bouquet of spring flowers. He raved about the meal, especially her antipasto salad, and claimed he'd never tasted better. Hallie figured she could get used to having a man tell her how wonderful she was.

They sat in front of the television, sipping the last of the wine from her best crystal goblets. The latest action-movie video played, but neither paid much attention to the actors racing across the screen. Mark relaxed against the sofa, his arm around her shoulder.

“You've been holding out on me,” he said in a chiding voice.

Half smiling, she twisted her head to look at him. Not for the first time, she was surprised at how classically handsome he was. Blond, blue-eyed, with a square jaw and perfect masculine features.

“What do you mean?” she asked, linking her fingers with his.

“Not only are you a successful career woman, but you can cook. Do you know how rare that is these days? Most women do whatever they can to keep out of the kitchen.”

The last thing Hallie wanted was to mislead him. “Sure, steak and a baked potato. Everything else is a challenge.”

He chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. His eyes grew serious. “Everything feels right with you, Hallie. I can't believe I'm here with you in my arms.”

She lowered her gaze, not ready to let Mark know how attractive she found him. “I feel the same way. You're worth every penny I paid for you.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “I knew when you arrived at the restaurant a half hour early that we'd get along just fine.”

She snuggled closer to him. “I was a nervous wreck.”

With deliberate movements, Mark took the wineglass from her fingers and set it aside. Cradling her head between his hands, he slowly lowered his mouth to hers.

Hallie felt the kiss all the way to her toes. She'd been kissed plenty of times before, but not like this. Never like this. His touch, his kiss, reminded her that she was indeed a woman. A desirable woman.

“You taste so damn good,” he murmured close to her ear.

“It's the wine.”

“It's you,” he countered. “You intoxicate me.”

She opened her mouth to remind him that they'd shared an entire bottle of wine, which might have explained any intoxication, but he chose that moment to lower his mouth to hers again. The kiss was deep and involved, and when he raised his head they were both breathing hard.

“Oh, my,” Hallie whispered, her eyes closed. The taste of his lips lingered on hers.

Mark began to kiss her neck and the underside of her jaw. Hallie leaned her head back as awareness shivered up and down her spine.

“I knew almost from the moment we met that you were the one,” Mark whispered.

She'd shared his reaction, his enthusiasm. Meeting Mark had made up for her unhappy experiences with Marv and Tom. He was everything she'd hoped to find in a man—in a husband.

He continued kissing her, and his hands traveled to the front of her sweater, cupping her breasts. “You're so damned beautiful,” he whispered.

Hallie bit her lower lip, as he manipulated his thumb over her nipples, which rose instantly to attention.

“Look how responsive they are.” His voice was elevated slightly with sexual excitement. “I can't believe how perfect you are.”

He slipped his hand under her sweater, his fingers investigating her warm smooth skin. All the effort that had gone into losing those ten pounds had been worth it, Hallie realized. She'd gladly do it all over again just to hear the awe in Mark's voice as his hand stroked her abdomen.

He kissed her once more, his tongue parting her lips, exploring her mouth. His breathing was heavy and labored when the kiss ended. “Hallie, sweet Hallie.”

“Oh, Mark…”

“I realize we haven't known each other long.”

“Two weeks.” It seemed as if he'd been in her life for months.

“Let me spend the night. I know it's soon, but I need you so much.”

Her eyes flew open and the warm sensual fog began to clear. She'd known—hoped—that eventually this would happen. She thought of the glorious silk nightgown she'd purchased a couple of months ago with this moment in mind. But it was too early in the relationship.

“I'm crazy about you.” He kissed her again, weakening her resolve. The series of kisses that followed left her drowning in a sea of arousal. She searched desperately for a life preserver, a reason, an excuse.

“Hallie, can't you see what you're doing to me?”

“Yes, but…”

“It'll be good, I promise you.”

“Mark, I need to think.”

“Don't think, Hallie, feel.” He removed her bra before she was aware of what he was doing. When she heard her jeans zipper ease open, she pressed her hand over his. Their eyes met in the semi-darkness.

From somewhere deep inside she found the answer. “Not yet.”

Disappointment clouded his eyes. “Soon, though, right?”

She smiled and kissed him. “Soon.”

Mark accepted her decision with good grace, then helped her adjust her clothes. When her desire had cooled slightly, she went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Mark followed her and agreed they were both in need of something to sober them up.

They sat back down in the living room with their coffee. “I've got a tight travel schedule this week and I'll be gone for a few days,” he said regretfully. “I'll call you, though.”

She nodded. “I'll be here every night but Friday.”

“Friday?” He frowned suddenly and studied her.

Rather than launch into a lengthy explanation, she said, “I'm helping a friend. Saturday afternoon, too, but I'll be home by about four.”

“A friend?”

“Yeah.” She didn't elaborate.

Again she felt his scrutiny. “Save Saturday night for me.”

She smiled, oddly discomfited by his frown and at the same time relieved that he hadn't questioned her further.

T
his wasn't going to work. Steve knew it the moment he saw Hallie grip the bowling ball and step in front of the pins. The first time he watched her throw the ball, he was reminded of an old Fred Flintstone cartoon. It looked, honest to God, as if she'd raced down the alley on tiptoe. And the bowling ball had headed straight for the gutter.

She looked guilty when she turned back. “I don't remember it being this difficult.”

“Don't worry. Just relax.” He tried to reassure her, a little afraid that if he offered her too much advice she'd change her mind and run.

The bowling ball was returned. Hallie reached for it and approached the line a second time. She made some inexplicable movements with her feet, shuffling a couple of inches to the left, to the right and then back to where she'd started, which was by no means where she should be. Up she went on her toes, glared menacingly at the pins, then raced forward like a ballerina terrorist.

“You might try aiming for the pins,” he suggested when her bowling ball slammed into the gutter again. He had to give her credit, though; her ball had gone maybe a foot farther before falling off the lane this time.

“I
am
aiming for the pins,” she said righteously. She rotated her arm and shook her hand back and forth, as if all she needed to improve was her wrist action.

“My turn,” Meagan said, rushing forward. Both his children had inherited his talent for sports. Meagan walked up the alley like a pro, released the ball just the way he'd shown her, and effortlessly knocked down eight pins.

Steve placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly in appreciation. Meagan had missed the spare, but she hadn't had a chance to warm up yet.

Kenny was next. Steve got a real kick out of watching his son bowl. What he lacked in strength and finesse, Kenny made up for with instinctive skill. He carried the bowling ball up to the foul line, studied the pins, then bent forward and gently let the ball go. It moved as if in slow motion and when it reached the pins, they fell almost gracefully. He knocked down six and then three.

Now it was his turn. Steve threw a strike, his ball exploding against the pins. He was good and had the trophies to prove it.

Hallie waited for the rack to reset the pins. She retrieved her ball, walked up to the starting point, shuffled to either side, then turned back and looked at Meagan.

His daughter shook her head and motioned with her hand for Hallie to move to the left. Hallie did as Meagan advised, but when she released the ball, Steve could see that she was standing in the wrong place. Again. The bowling ball headed straight for the right-hand gutter, just as it had earlier.

Steve closed his eyes. Maybe it wasn't too late to back out of the tournament. He opened his eyes in time to see Hallie's bowling ball balancing precariously on the outer edge of the lane, then unexpectedly taking a sharp turn toward the headpin. It missed that and struck two pins to the left.
The left.
The bizarre thing was that her ball had been slanting toward the right-hand gutter two seconds earlier.

All in all, Hallie managed to strike down six pins. Steve had seen plenty of curve balls in his day, but this was something else. She missed the spare, but returned to her seat, looking pleased with herself. Steve congratulated her.

“It just took me a while to remember what I was supposed to do,” she informed him. “This isn't difficult, you know.”

“Right.”

They bowled three games and Hallie improved with each one. She never did get a strike, but came close a number of times. If for no other reason, her handicap would help him in the tournament, and he'd save face. It'd look bad if he couldn't find a replacement for his
sister
. It was bad enough having Shirley bowl with him, but to show up without a partner on Saturday would be a blow to his image. Hallie would have to do. He realized that seemed grudging; actually, he was grateful she'd agreed to help.

He wondered if anyone tomorrow would mistake Hallie for his girlfriend. Not that it really mattered. At the very least, it might convince his league buddies and their wives to lay off the matchmaking.

Plenty of people knew he was divorced, and more than a few had tried to set him up with women. He'd resisted their attempts for the simple reason that he wasn't interested in dating again. He preferred to keep trying with Mary Lynn, despite the fact that she was still dating that Kip character. They talked frequently, which Steve considered a promising sign, and Mary Lynn had him over for a family dinner every now and again. Less in the past couple of months than he would've liked, but he wasn't complaining.

Mary Lynn's birthday was coming up next week, and he'd ordered her a dozen red roses, plus two white ones. She loved roses, and he wondered if she'd figure out the significance of the two white ones. They'd been married twelve years and apart two. Those two years had been the most confused, difficult, painful years of his life. Damn it all, he wanted to be a full-time family man again. And he wanted Mary Lynn back—not the manipulative woman she'd become, but the loving passionate wife she'd once been. They both had to make some changes; he understood that. He was certainly willing to work on it, but he couldn't do it alone.

“Are you guys ready for pizza?” he asked the kids when they returned from handing in their bowling shoes.

“You bet.”

“How many quarters do we get this time?” Kenny demanded.

Steve hid a smile. “Who said anything about quarters?”

“Aw, Dad.”

“Don't worry, you'll get quarters.” He ruffled Kenny's hair.

Although it was almost nine, the pizza parlor was as busy as it had been their previous visit. There weren't any families at this hour; the place seemed to be inhabited by teenagers. Hallie and the kids located a table while he ordered the pizza and bought a pitcher of root beer for the kids and glasses of dark ale for Hallie and him.

Once he'd brought over the drinks and relinquished the quarters into his children's hot little hands, he sat down with Hallie. “I really appreciate your doing this for me,” he said. As for helping
her
out, that had cost him no money and little effort. She'd conscientiously repaid him each time. If anything, she'd added comic relief to his life when he needed it most.

“I'm glad I can return the favor.”

She really did have lovely brown eyes, Steve realized. Eye color wasn't something he particularly noticed in a woman and he probably wouldn't have this time if she hadn't looked so happy. Her irises were an unusual color. Sort of like the ale they were drinking. Deep, dark. Striking.

“Do I have a frosty mustache?” she asked, and raised her fingertips to her upper lip. When he shook his head, she said, “I don't? Then why are you staring at me?”

“I was just thinking how happy you look.”

The skin around the eyes he'd been studying a moment earlier crinkled with silent laughter. “I
am
happy and for a very good reason. Remember I told you I met a wonderful man through Dateline? Well, I think I'm falling in love with him.”

“Really?” Steve didn't mean to sound skeptical, but he thought it all seemed awfully quick. He'd seen the guy who'd come by her house a couple of times. Steve hadn't thought much of him; he wasn't sure why. But he just didn't see this guy as Hallie's type, although if she was to ask him to define her type, he wouldn't be able to do it. But then, what did he know about love and romance? Apparently not much, seeing that his own marriage had been such a failure.

“Uh, I haven't seen him around lately, have I?” Steve added. It'd been a week or so since he'd last caught sight of the guy. The same day, in fact, that he and Hallie had met in the grocery store.

“He's been out of town. The last few days have felt like forever. We've talked long-distance for an hour every night. I hate to think what his telephone bill's going to be.”

Steve didn't know what two people could talk about for an entire hour. He'd never been one to chitchat comfortably over the phone. Even face-to-face was something of a strain. He and his good buddy Alex Rochester used to fish for hours without saying so much as a word. Steve always figured they didn't need to talk to communicate. Pretty good basis for friendship, he thought. Well, that and the fishing.

Alex had moved to Texas three years earlier, and Steve still missed him. Come summer, he planned to take a couple of weeks and drive down to visit Alex. But then he'd been saying that every summer since Alex moved. Maybe this year.

“I'm happy for you, Hallie,” Steve said, and he meant it. He didn't know his neighbor all that well, but he liked her. Finding a husband had seemed important to her, and he wished her and this Mark fellow the best.

“Thanks.” Her hands circled the chilled mug. “Mark's everything I want in a husband. He's friendly and outgoing, smart, responsible, kind. I haven't met too many men like that. He's tender, caring, romantic…”

She had the dreamy look women get when they're crazy about some guy. His former secretary, Danielle, had fallen in and out of love half-a-dozen times in the three years she'd worked for him, so he was familiar with that faraway expression.

It wasn't until they'd all piled into the car for the ride home that Steve realized he'd actually enjoyed himself. He had the other time, too, when Hallie'd gone out with him and the kids. He was
comfortable
with her. He supposed that was because they weren't romantically involved. They could be themselves without worrying about impressing each other or meeting inflated expectations.

“Can you be ready at eleven-thirty tomorrow?” he asked as they drove through the brick entrance to Willow Woods and onto the well-lit streets.

“Sure, no problem.”

“Great.”

Hallie inhaled sharply. “That looks like Mark's car!” she exclaimed, excitement raising her voice. “He must've been able to get away sooner than he expected.”

Steve pulled into his driveway.

“Have you got a moment to meet him?” she asked.

“Sure,” Steve answered, feigning enthusiasm.

Hallie climbed out of the car and waved. “Mark!” she called. “You're back early.”

As Steve retrieved his bowling ball from the trunk, he heard Mark say, “Is this the
friend
you were helping out?”

Steve detected the nasty sarcasm in the man's voice, even if Hallie didn't. The kids caught it, too, and they exchanged startled glances.

Steve introduced himself, then stuck out his hand. Mark ignored it.

“You and I need to talk,” Mark said to Hallie, his tone glacial.

He didn't look at Steve at all.