This Matter Of Marriage. Debbie Macomber

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,”