The First Man You Meet(12)

‘‘I don't know.''

His lips brushed hers. Briefly, with a whisper-soft touch, as though he   was testing her response. Shelly closed her eyes and moaned. She didn't   want to feel any of this. They were so far apart, such different  people.  Besides, he was involved with another woman and she was  involved with  her career.

When the kiss ended and he slowly released her, it was all Shelly could   do to keep from sinking to the sand. ‘‘I have … to get back to Seattle,''   she managed to say, backing away from him. She turned and took four or   five wobbly steps before she realized she was headed toward the  Pacific  Ocean.

‘‘Shelly?''

‘‘Yes?''

‘‘Seattle is due north. If you continue going west, you'll eventually land in Hawaii.''

‘‘Oh, yeah, right,'' she mumbled, reversing her direction abruptly, eager now to escape.

THE FIRST PERSON Shelly called when she got home was Jill. ‘‘Can you   come over?'' Shelly asked without preamble. She could barely keep the   panic out of her voice.

‘‘Sure, what's wrong?''

‘‘I saw Mark again.''

‘‘And?''

‘‘Let me put it like this. We kissed and I haven't stopped trembling since.''

Jill's romantic sigh came over the receiver as her breath softly caught.   ‘‘This I've got to hear. I'll be there in ten minutes.''

Actually it was closer to seven minutes. Shelly hadn't stopped pacing   from the moment she got off the phone. She checked her watch repeatedly,   waiting desperately for a dose of Jill's good sense.

‘‘Shelly,'' Jill said, smiling as she breezed into the apartment, ‘‘what happened to your hair?''

Shelly smoothed down the errant curls. ‘‘I was at Long Beach.''

‘‘That's where you saw Mark? Good grief, that's something of a coincidence, isn't it?''

‘‘I saw him earlier in the week, too … . Remember I told you I was being   audited by the IRS? Lo and behold, guess who was in their waiting room   when I arrived?''

‘‘I don't need to be a rocket scientist to figure that one out. Mark Brady!''

‘‘Right.'' Shelly rubbed her damp palms along her jeans in agitation. They, at least, had finally dried.

‘‘And?''

Shelly groaned. ‘‘Can't you see what's happening? This is the third time   we've been thrown together in the past few days. I'd never seen the  man  before, and all of a sudden he's around every corner. Then the  wedding  dress fit. It fit you … and it fits me.''

‘‘I agree that's all rather odd, but I wouldn't put too much stock in it, if I were you.''

‘‘Put too much stock in it …  Listen, Jill, I've never had a man make me   feel the way Mark does-all weak inside and, I don't know, special   somehow. To be perfectly honest, I don't like it.'' She closed her eyes,   hoping to chase away the memory of his touch, but it did no good.  ‘‘You  want to know the real kicker?'' she asked abruptly, turning to  face her  friend. ‘‘He's engaged.''                       
       
           



       

‘‘Engaged,'' Jill echoed, her voice as startled as her expression.

‘‘He keeps insisting it's not official yet. Nevertheless he's involved with someone else.''

‘‘But it was you he kissed,'' Jill pointed out.

‘‘Don't remind me.'' Shelly covered her eyes with both hands. ‘‘I don't mind telling you, I find this whole thing unnerving.

‘‘Obviously. Here,'' Jill said, directing Shelly toward the kitchen.   ‘‘Now sit down. Let me make us some tea, then we can try to reason this   out. Honestly, Shell, I don't think I've ever seen you so upset.''

‘‘I'm not upset,'' she cried. ‘‘I'm confused. There's a big difference.   I'm … I'm trapped.'' Despite all logic to the contrary, she couldn't help   fearing that the entire course of her life was about to change because   her aunt Milly had fallen asleep watching ‘‘Donahue'' one day and had   some nonsensical dream.

‘‘Trapped?'' Jill repeated. ‘‘Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic?''

‘‘I don't know anymore.'' Shelly rested her elbows on the table, buried   her face in her hands and breathed in deeply. She had a tendency to   become emotional, especially over family issues; she realized that. But   this was different. This was scary.

‘‘Calm down,'' Jill advised. ‘‘Once you think it through in a rational   manner, you'll realize there's a perfectly ordinary explanation for   everything.''

Jill's serenity lent Shelly some badly needed confidence. ‘‘All right, you explain it.''

‘‘I can't,'' Jill admitted matter-of-factly, pouring boiling water into   Shelly's teapot. ‘‘I'm not even going to try. My advice to you is to   quit taking all this so seriously. If a relationship develops between   you and Mark, just enjoy it-providing the other woman's out of the   picture, of course! Just forget about that dress.''

‘‘Easy for you to say.''

‘‘That's true,'' Jill agreed readily. ‘‘But you're going to have to accept it for your own peace of mind.''

Shelly knew good advice when she heard it. ‘‘You're right. I'm unnecessarily leaping into the deep end with this.''

‘‘A dress can't make you do anything you don't want to do. The same applies to Mark.''

Shelly always counted on her friend's levelheadedness. Although Jill had   given her basically the same advice several days earlier, Shelly  needed  to hear it again.

Jill prepared two cups of tea and carried them to the table. ‘‘Are you going to be all right now?''

Shelly nodded. ‘‘Of course. I just needed a friend to remind me that I   was overreacting.'' She took a sip of the tea, surprised by how much it   revived her. ‘‘You're still planning to see Street Suite with me   tomorrow afternoon, aren't you?''

The recent Broadway hit was showing locally, and Shelly and Jill had purchased their tickets several weeks earlier.

‘‘That's not tomorrow, is it?'' Jill looked stricken, her teacup poised midway to her mouth.

‘‘Jill … ''

‘‘I promised I'd work for Sharon Belmont. She's got some family thing   she has to attend. She was desperate and I completely forgot about the   play. Oh, dear, you'll just have to go without me.''

‘‘You're sure you can't get out of it?'' Shelly couldn't help feeling disappointed.

‘‘I'm sure. I'm really sorry, Shell.''

Although frustrated that Jill couldn't come with her, Shelly decided to   go to the theater alone. She wasn't pleased at the prospect and given   her proclivity for running into Mark Brady, she didn't feel entirely   convinced that this wasn't another attempt by the fates to regulate   their lives.

However, if she stayed home, she'd be missing a wonderful play. Not only   that, she'd be giving in to a nebulous and irrational fear, allowing  it  to take over her life.

The following afternoon, Shelly dressed carefully, in the type of   conservative outfit her mother would have approved of. Mark, too, would   approve of her rose-colored linen dress with its matching jacket. …  The   minute the thought flashed through her head, she rejected it.                       
       
           



       

She was on her way out the door when her phone rang. For a split second   she toyed with the idea of not answering. More than likely it was her   mother, checking in to see if Shelly had met a prospective husband yet.   Her calls had become more frequent and more urgent since Aunt Milly's   dress had arrived.

Years of habit prompted her to reach for the telephone.

‘‘Shelly.'' Mark's voice came over the line. ‘‘I was about to leave for   the afternoon's performance of Street Suite. Since we seem to have this   tendency to run into each other everywhere we go, I thought I should   probably clear it with you. If you're going to be there, I'll go another   time.''





Chapter Eight



‘‘ACTUALLY I WAS PLANNING to see the play this afternoon myself,''   Shelly admitted hesitantly. ‘‘Jill had to cancel out at the last   minute.''