This Matter Of Marriage. Debbie Macomber

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      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!”

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