The First Man You Meet(11)

‘‘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 into the lush sand. Mark lowered himself onto the   beach beside her. She picked 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 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 somewhere in her throat as she stared helplessly   into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. …

His forehead touched hers, then he angled his face gently, 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 closer.

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



       





Chapter Seven



‘‘HEY,'' SHELLY SAID reassuringly, ‘‘don't look so concerned. It was   just an ordinary, run-of-the-mill kiss.'' She stood indignantly 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 only makes sense that we should 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 wedding dress overcame our normal   good sense, and we succumbed to the 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 demanded. His blue eyes probed and waited.

‘‘Uh … yes. And yours?''

‘‘Yes,'' he muttered, but he was frowning again.

The youth 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 hefted his own bike onto the truck as well, and the three of them   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 have thought he'd be anxious to see the last of her.

‘‘Good,'' he said immediately, not giving her a chance to reply. His   hand grasped her elbow firmly as he led her to a nearby fish-and-chips   stand. Shelly couldn't recall the last 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 comfortable, even   pleasant.

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

‘‘I should have paid for my own,'' she said once they were seated,   vaguely guilty that he'd paid for both meals. Janice might be the   jealous type, and Shelly didn't want her to hear about this.

His eyes met hers, steady and direct. ‘‘When I ask you to join me, I pick up the bill.''

Any argument she had vanished before it reached her lips.

After that, Shelly concentrated on her fish and chips, which were fresh   and absolutely delicious. Mark seemed preoccupied with his meal, as   well.

‘‘What brought you to the beach today?'' Shelly asked, finishing the   last few French fries in her basket. Perhaps if they could figure out   what had brought them both to a lonely stretch of beach two hours out of   Seattle, they might be able to make sense of how they'd happened upon   each other a third time.

‘‘I have a beach house here. After tax time I generally try to get away for a few days, to come down here and relax.''

‘‘I had no idea.'' She found it inordinately important that he   understand she hadn't somehow managed to stalk him across the state.   Their meeting was pure coincidence … again.

‘‘Don't worry about it, Shelly. You couldn't possibly have known about   the beach house or that I intended to be here today. I didn't know it   myself until this morning.''

Shelly suddenly wished that Mark hadn't kissed her. Everything was becoming far too complicated now.

‘‘You're very talented,'' he told her out of the blue. ‘‘I bought one of your videos the other day.''

‘‘How did you know what I do?'' Shelly felt flustered by his praise; she   was at a complete loss to understand why it meant so much to her.                       
       
           



       

‘‘I saw it on the income tax form and I was curious about your work.''

‘‘Curiosity seems to have gotten us both into a great deal of trouble,'' she said.

Mark grinned, a shameless irresistible grin. The kind of grin that makes   a woman forget all sorts of things. Like the fact that he was   practically engaged. And that he was a tall, blue-eyed stranger who,   according to Aunt Milly's letter, would soon become her husband. …

Shelly scrambled to her feet, hurrying toward the beach. Mark followed.

‘‘You shouldn't look at me like that,'' she said, her voice soft and bewildered.

‘‘You said it was just a kiss. Was it?''

‘‘Yes,'' she boldly lied. ‘‘How could it be anything more?''

‘‘You tell me.''

Shelly had no answers to give him.

‘‘While you're at it, explain why we keep bumping into each other or why I can't stop thinking about you.''

‘‘You can't?'' She hadn't been able to stop thinking about him, either, but she wasn't ready to admit it.

‘‘No.'' He stood behind her, his hands caressing her shoulders.   Leisurely he stroked the length of her arms. His touch was so light that   she thought she was imagining it, and she felt both excited and  afraid.

He turned her around and gazed at her lips. ‘‘If that was just a   run-of-the-mill kiss, then why do I feel the need to do it again?''