This Matter Of Marriage. Debbie Macomber

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СКАЧАТЬ 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, СКАЧАТЬ