The Man You'll Marry

by Debbie Macomber

  “Thank you,” he answered, then grinned. “Same to you and whatever, uh, lucky guy the wedding dress finds you.”

  Six

  She should be happy, Shelly told herself early the following morning. Not only had she survived the audit—in fact she’d come away with an unexpected refund—but she’d learned that Mark was practically engaged.

  Yes, she should be dancing in the streets, singing in the aisles…Instead she’d been struggling with a strange melancholy ever since their last encounter. She seemed to have lost her usual vitality, her sense of fun.

  Now it was Saturday, and for once she had no looming deadlines, no appointments, no pressing errands. Remembering the exhilaration and solace she’d felt when she recorded an ocean storm sequence recently, Shelly decided to see if she could recapture some of those feelings. She headed over to Long Beach, a resort town on the Washington coastline. The sky was clear and almost cloudless; the sun was bright and pleasantly warm—a perfect spring day. Once she drove onto the freeway, the miles sped past and two hours later she was standing on the sandy beach with the breeze riffling her long hair.

  She walked around for a while, enjoying the sights and sounds—the chirping of the sea gulls, the salty spray of the Pacific Ocean and the scent of wind and sea. She was satisfied with her beach DVD and started to work out plans for a whole series—the ocean in different seasons, different moods. That would be something special, she thought, something unique.

  She wandered down the beach, kicking at the sand with the toes of her running shoes. Tucking her fingertips in the pockets of her jeans, she breathed in the vivid freshness around her. After an hour or so, she made her way back to the concession stands, where she bought a hot dog and a cold drink.

  Then, just because it looked like fun, she rented a moped.

  She sped along the shore, thrilled with the sensation of freedom, reveling in the solitude and the roar of pounding surf.

  The wind tossed her hair about her face until it was a confusion of curls. Shelly laughed aloud and listened as the galloping breeze carried off the sound.

  Her motorized bike rushed forward, spitting sand in its wake. She felt reckless with exhilaration, as though there was nothing she couldn’t do. It was that kind of afternoon. That kind of day.

  When she least expected it, someone else on a moped raced past her. Shelly hadn’t encountered anyone during her ride and this person took her by surprise. She glanced quickly over her shoulder, astonished by how far she’d traveled. The only other person she could see was the one who’d passed her.

  To her surprise, the rider did an abrupt turnaround and headed back in her direction. With the sun in her eyes and the wind pelting her, Shelly slowed to a crawl and shaded her eyes with one hand.

  It wasn’t until he was nearly beside her that Shelly recognized the other rider.

  Mark Brady.

  She was so shocked that she allowed the engine to die, her feet dropping to the sand to maintain her balance. Mark appeared equally shocked. He braked abruptly.

  “Shelly?” He seemed not to believe it was her.

  Shelly shook her head and blinked a couple of times just to make sure she wasn’t fantasizing. She certainly hadn’t expected to encounter Mark Brady on a beach two hours out of Seattle. Mr. Conservative riding a moped! This time, though, he wasn’t wearing a dark suit. He didn’t have his briefcase with him, either. And he looked even handsomer than usual in worn jeans and a University of Washington sweatshirt.

  “Mark?” She couldn’t prevent the astonishment from creeping into her voice.

  “What are you doing here?”

  She heard the hostility in his tone and answered him coolly. “The same thing as you, apparently.” She pushed the hair from her face, and the wind promptly blew it back.

  Mark’s blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You didn’t happen to follow me, did you?”

  “Follow you?” she repeated indignantly. She’d rarely been more insulted. “Follow you!” she said again, starting her moped and revving the engine. “May I remind you that I was on the beach first? If anyone was doing any following, it was you following me.” She was breathless by the time she finished. “In fact, you’re the last person I’d follow anywhere!”

  Mark scowled at her. “The feeling’s mutual. I’m not in the mood for another story about your aunt Martha’s damn wedding dress, either.”

  Shelly felt an unexpected flash of pain. “I was having a perfectly wonderful afternoon until you arrived,” she said stiffly.

  “I was having a good time myself,” he muttered.

  “Then I suggest we go our separate ways and forget we ever met.”

  Mark looked as if he was about to say something else, but Shelly was in no frame of mind to listen. She twisted the accelerator on the handlebar of her moped and took off down the beach. Although she knew she was being unreasonable, she was furious. Furious at the surge of joy she’d felt when she recognized him. Furious at Mark, because he didn’t seem even a little pleased to see her. She bit her lower lip, remembering the comment he’d made about not wanting to hear any more about her “damn wedding dress.” Now, that was just rude, she told herself righteously. She could never be interested in a man who was not only conventional but rude.

  Squinting, Shelly hunched her shoulders against the wind, in a hurry now to return to the boardwalk. She hadn’t meant to go nearly this far.

  The wet, compact sand made for smooth, fast riding and Shelly stayed close to the water’s edge in an effort to outdistance Mark. Not that he was likely to chase her, but she wanted to avoid any possibility of another embarrassing encounter.

  Then it happened.

  A large wave came in, sneaking its way up the sand, creating a thin, glistening sheen. Shelly hardly noticed as her front tire ripped through the water, spraying it out on both sides. Then the moped’s front wheel dipped precariously. One minute she was sailing down the beach at breakneck speed and the next she was cartwheeling over her handlebars.

  She landed heavily in a patch of wet sand, too paralyzed with shock to know if she was hurt or not.

  Before she could move, Mark was crouching at her side. “Shelly? Are you all right?”

  “I…don’t know.” Carefully she flexed one arm and then the other. Sitting up, she tested each leg and didn’t feel pain there, either. Apparently she’d survived the experience unscathed.

  “You crazy fool!” he yelled, leaping to his feet. “What are you trying to do, kill yourself?”

  “Ah…” It was painful to breathe, otherwise she would’ve answered him.

  “Can you imagine what I thought when I saw you flying through the air like that?”

  “Good riddance?” she suggested.

  Mark closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m in no mood for your jokes. Here, let me help you up.” He moved behind her, sliding his arms around her waist and gently raising her.

  “I’m fine,” she protested the instant his arms surrounded her. The blood rushed to her head, but Shelly didn’t know if that was because of her tumble or because Mark was holding her. Even when she was on her feet, he didn’t release her.

  “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

  Shelly nodded, not trusting her voice. “I’m less confident about the moped, though.” Her bike seemed to be in worse shape than she was.

  “It doesn’t look good to me, either,” Mark said. He finally dropped his arms and retrieved the moped, which was lying on its side, the waves lapping over it. There were regular hissing sounds as the cold water splashed against the heated muffler. Steam rose from the engine.

  Mark did his best to start the bike, but to no avail. “I’m afraid it’s hopelessly wet. It won’t start now until it’s had a chance to dry. A mechanic should check it over to be sure nothing’s wrong.”

  Shelly agreed. There was no help for it; she was going to have to walk the bike back to the rental shop. No small feat when she considered she was about three miles down the beach.
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  “Thank you very much for stopping,” she said a bit primly. “But as you can see I’m not hurt….”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Mark asked as she began pushing the moped. It made for slow progress; the bulky machine was far more difficult to transport under her own power than she’d expected. At this rate, she’d be lucky to return it by nightfall.

  “I’m taking the bike back to the place where I rented it.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Do you have any better ideas?” she asked in a reasonable tone of voice. “I don’t understand what you’re doing here in the first place,” she said, sounding far calmer than she felt. “You should be with Janet.”

  “Who?” he demanded. He tried to take the moped away from her and push it himself, but she wouldn’t let go.

  “The woman you’re going to marry. Remember?”

  “Her name is Janice and as I said before, the engagement’s unofficial.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question. You should be with her on a beautiful spring day like this.”

  Mark frowned. “Janice couldn’t get away. She had an important meeting with a client—she’s a lawyer. Listen, quit being so stubborn, I’m stronger than you. Let me push the bike.”

  Shelly hesitated; his offer was tempting. She hadn’t gone more than a few feet and already her side ached. She pressed one hand against her hip and straightened, her decision made. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she answered flatly. “By the way, it’s Aunt Milly who sent me the wedding dress, not Aunt Martha, so if we’re going to get names straight, let’s start there.”

  Mark rolled his eyes skyward, as though he’d reached the end of his limited patience. “Fine, I’ll apologize for what I said back there. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “I didn’t follow you,” she said.

  “I know, but I didn’t follow you, either.”

  Shelly nodded, deciding she believed him.

  “Then how do you explain that we’ve inadvertently bumped into each other twice in the last week?” Mark asked. “The odds of that happening have got to be phenomenal.”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but…I’m afraid it’s the dress,” Shelly mumbled.

  “The wedding dress?” Mark repeated.

  “I’m really embarrassed about all this. I’m not sure I believe any of it myself. And I do apologize, especially since there’s been an apparent mix-up….”

  “Why’s that?” Mark asked.

  “Well…because you’re involved with Janice. I’m sure the two of you are a perfect match and you’ll have a marvelous life together.”

  “What makes you assume that?”

  His question caught her off guard. “Well, because…didn’t you just tell me you’re about to become officially engaged?”

  “Yes,” he muttered.

  Although she was reluctant to admit it, Shelly found pushing the moped extremely taxing, so she stopped to rest for a moment. “Listen,” she said a little breathlessly, “there’s no need for you to walk with me. Why don’t you just go on ahead?”

  “There most definitely is a need,” Mark answered sharply. He didn’t seem too pleased with her suggestion. “I’m not going to desert you now.”

  “Oh, Mark, honestly, you don’t have to be such a gentleman.”

  “You don’t like gentlemen?”

  “Of course I do—but it’s one of the reasons you and I would never get along for any length of time. You’re very sweet, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t need anyone to rescue me.”

  “Forgive me for saying so, but you do appear to need rescuing.” The look he gave her implied that he was referring to more than the moped.

  “I was the one foolish enough to get the engine wet,” she said brightly, ignoring his comment. “So I should be the one to deal with the consequences.”

  Mark waited a moment, as if debating whether to continue arguing. “Fine, if that’s the way you feel,” he said finally, straddling his moped and starting the engine, which roared to life with sickening ease. “I hope you don’t tire out too quickly.”

  “I’ll be okay,” she said, hardly able to believe he was actually going to abandon her.

  “I hope you’re right about that,” he said, revving the engine.

  “You…you could let someone know,” she ventured. Maybe the rental agency would send someone out with a truck to find her.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he agreed, then grinning broadly, took off at top speed down the beach.

  Although she’d made the suggestion that he go on without her, Shelly had assumed he wouldn’t take it seriously. She’d said it more for the sake of dignity, of preserving her pride. She’d been enjoying his company, enjoying the banter between them.

  As he vanished into the distance, Shelly squared her shoulders, determined to manage on her own—particularly since she didn’t have any choice. She’d been dragging her moped along for perhaps ten minutes when she noticed another moped racing toward her. It didn’t take her long to identify the rider, with his lithe, muscular build, as Mark. She picked up her pace, unreasonably pleased that he’d decided to return. He slowed as he approached her.

  “Still eager to be rid of me?”

  “No,” she admitted, smiling half in relief, half in pleasure. “Can’t you tell when a woman means something and when she’s just being polite?”

  “I guess not.” He smiled back, apparently in a jovial mood. “Rest,” he said, parking his own moped and taking hers. “A truck will be along any minute.”

  Shelly sank gratefully down on the lush sand. Mark lowered himself onto the beach beside her. She plucked several blades of grass and began weaving them industriously together. That way, she wouldn’t have to look at him.

  “Are you always this stubborn?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said quietly, giving him a shy smile. Shelly couldn’t remember being shy in her life. But something about Mark made her feel shaky inside, and oddly weak. An unfamiliar sensation, but she dared not analyze it, dared not examine it too closely. She turned away from him and closed her eyes, trying to picture Janice, the woman he was going to marry. Despite her usually creative imagination, Shelly couldn’t seem to visualize her.

  “Shelly, what’s wrong?”

  “Wrong?”

  “It’s not like you to be so quiet.”

  She grinned. They were barely more than acquaintances, and he already knew her. “Nothing.”

  “I think there must be.” His finger against the side of her face guided her eyes toward him. Their lips were so close. Shelly’s breath seemed to be caught in her throat as she stared helplessly into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen….

  His forehead touched hers, then he angled his face, brushing her cheek. Shelly knew she should break away, but she couldn’t make herself do it. Gently, deliberately, he pressed his mouth to hers, his lips warm and moist.

  Shelly moaned at the shock of sensation. Her eyes drifted shut as his mouth moved hungrily over hers, and soon their arms were wrapped tightly around each other, their bodies straining close.

  The sound of the approaching truck intruded into their private world and broke them apart. Mark’s eyes met hers, then he scowled and glanced away. But Shelly didn’t know whether he was angry with her or with himself. Probably her.

  Seven

  “Hey,” Shelly said reassuringly, “don’t look so concerned. It was just an ordinary, run-of-the-mill kiss.” She stood and brushed the wet sand from her jeans. “Besides, it didn’t mean anything.”

  Mark’s scowl darkened. “Didn’t mean anything?” he echoed.

  “Of course it didn’t! I mean, we were both wondering what it would be like, don’t you think? Good grief, we seem to be running into each other every other day and it’s only logical that we’d want to, you know, experiment.”

  “In other words, you think the kiss was just a means of satisfying our mutual curiosity?”

  “Sure. All this nonsense about the weddi
ng dress overcame our common sense, and we succumbed to temptation.” Thank goodness Mark seemed to understand her rambling. Shelly’s knees were shaking. It was a wonder she could still stand upright. Although she’d tried to minimize the effects of his kiss, it left her feeling as though she’d never been kissed before. Her entire body had been overwhelmed by a feeling of rightness. Now all she felt was the crushing weight of confusion. She shouldn’t be feeling any of these things for Mark. A CPA! An almost-engaged CPA, to boot.

  “And was your curiosity satisfied?” he asked. His blue eyes probed.

  “Uh…yes. And yours?”

  “Yes,” he muttered, but he was frowning again.

  The kid from the rental agency leaped out of the truck and loaded Shelly’s moped into the back. “You’re not supposed to get the engine wet,” he scolded. “It’s in the rental agreement. You’ll have to pay a fine.”

  Shelly nodded. She didn’t have an excuse; she doubted the agency would accept her trying to escape Mark as a legitimate reason for damaging one of their vehicles.

  Mark drove his moped, while Shelly got into the pickup’s cab and rode silently down the long stretch of beach.

  Shelly went to the office to deal with her fine and was surprised to find Mark waiting for her when she’d finished. “You hungry?” he asked in an offhand invitation.

  “Uh…” She would’ve thought he’d be anxious to see the last of her.

  “Good,” he said immediately, not giving her a chance to reply. He grasped her elbow firmly as he led her to a nearby fish-and-chips stand. Shelly couldn’t recall any other time a man had taken her elbow. Her first reaction was to object to what she considered an outdated gesture but she was surprised to find it oddly comforting, even pleasant.

  They ordered their fish and chips, then carried the small baskets to a picnic table.