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 just yet, otherwise she would have 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 up.
‘‘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 as though he never intended to let go. 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 for her, 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 brushed the hair from her face and nodded. 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.
‘‘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 realized. 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 again. ‘‘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 reserve of 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, finding that she believed him.
‘‘Then how do you explain that we've inadvertently stumbled 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,'' Mark muttered, frowning.
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 pay 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 the moped and starting his 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 leave her.
‘‘I hope you're right about that,'' he said, revving the engine.
‘‘You … you could let someone know,'' she ventured, hoping the rental agency might 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 ahead 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 had actually 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 much choice in the matter. She'd been dragging the moped along for several minutes when she noticed a 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?''