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The First Man You Meet(15)

By:Debbie Macomber


‘‘His opinion of you has mellowed, hasn't it?'' Jill asked, then   answered her own question. ‘‘There was a time when he thought you were a   little bizarre, remember?''

Shelly did, all too well. ‘‘At first I thought he was about as exciting as oatmeal, but I've altered my opinion of him, too.''                       
       
           



       

‘‘So what's the problem?''

‘‘I don't want to fall in love,'' Shelly said pointedly.

‘‘I've got bigger plans for my life than to tie myself down to a committed relationship right now.''

‘‘Then don't. It shouldn't be that difficult. Decide what you want and   ignore everything else. There's no law that says you have to fall in   love this minute. For that matter, no one can regulate when and who you   marry, either. Not even your aunt Milly.''

Jill was saying everything Shelly wanted to hear. Everything she needed   to hear. But it didn't make any difference; her heart was already   involved. If she could forget she'd ever met Mark, she would. But it was   too late. She was in love with him. With Mark, who was in love with   someone else. Mark, who saw love and marriage as goals to be achieved   within a certain time frame. He'd probably never done anything impulsive   in his life.

A lasting relationship would never work between them. If he wasn't smart   enough to figure that out, she was. Something had to be done and soon,   and Shelly knew it would be up to her to do it.

SHELLY DIDN'T HAVE LONG to wait before she saw Mark again. They met at   the main branch of the Seattle Public Library Wednesday evening. She was   returning ten overdue books. Six months' overdue. The library had sent   her three warnings, each one progressively less friendly.

She was half-afraid the buzzer just inside the library entrance would go   off the moment she walked through the hallowed doors and armed  officers  would haul her away.

‘‘I wondered how long it would take for us to find each other again,''   Mark said, strolling up to her at the counter. She'd seen him almost   immediately and tried to pretend she hadn't.

Shelly acknowledged him with a quick nod and ordered her heart to be   still. She managed a small smile. ‘‘Hello again,'' she said, drawing the   checkbook out of her purse. The fine for the books was sure to be   monstrous. It might be cheaper to buy them.

Mark set the two volumes he was borrowing on the counter. Shelly noted   the titles-Tools for Time Management and The State of the Language, and   groaned inwardly. To someone like her accountant friend, these books   were probably easy reading. Her own tastes leaned more toward mystery   and romance, with a little nonfiction.

‘‘Have you got time for a cup of coffee?'' Mark asked as she wrote out the check to pay her fine.

Her heart was gladdened by the invitation, but she knew she had to   refuse it. Before he could say or do anything to change her mind, she   shook her head. ‘‘Not tonight, thanks.''

His smile faded as though her refusal took him by surprise. ‘‘You're busy?''

She nodded, smiling at the librarian as she tore the check free and   handed it to the woman, who smiled pleasantly in return. It had been a   civilized exchange, Shelly thought, and her library card had not been   confiscated, despite her transgressions.

‘‘A date's waiting for you?''

It took Shelly a second to understand that Mark was referring to her refusal to join him for coffee.

‘‘Not exactly.'' She turned away from the counter and headed toward the exit. To her surprise Mark followed her outside.

‘‘Something's wrong,'' he said, standing at the top of the steps. She   stopped her descent and stood below him, looking up. Pretense had never   suited Shelly; she was too innately honest to hide her feelings.  ‘‘Mark,  I think you're a very nice man-''

‘‘But you don't want to marry me,'' he concluded for her. ‘‘I've heard   that line before, remember? Actually half the mall heard it, too.''

‘‘I've already apologized for that. It's just that … all right, if you   must know, I'm beginning to like you … really like you, and frankly that   terrifies me.'' She stood facing him, two steps below.

Her candid response seemed to unnerve him. He frowned and rubbed the   side of his jaw. ‘‘I know what you mean. I'm beginning to like you,   too.''

‘‘See!'' she cried, tossing her hands in the air. ‘‘If we don't take   care of this problem now, heaven only knows what could happen. It has   the potential of ruining both our lives. We're mature adults, aren't   we?'' At the moment, though, she felt singularly lacking in maturity.

All her senses were clamoring, telling her to enjoy their brief time   together and damn the consequences. It was what her heart wanted, but   she couldn't allow her life to be ruled by her heart. Not when it came   to Mark.                       
       
           



       

‘‘Liking each other doesn't have to be a federal crime,'' he said, advancing one step toward her.

‘‘You're right, of course, but I know myself too well. I could easily   fall in love with you, Mark.'' She didn't dare admit she already had.   ‘‘Before we knew how it happened, we'd be spending more and more time   with each other. We might even become seriously involved.''

He remained suspiciously silent.

‘‘You're a wonderful man. If my mother were to meet you she'd be   shouting from the rooftops, she'd be so grateful. For a while I might   convince myself that we could really make something of this   relationship. I might even consider taking cooking classes because   you're the kind of man who'd expect a woman to know how to make a roast   and mashed potatoes.''

‘‘It'd probably come in handy someday,'' he admitted.

‘‘That's what I thought,'' she murmured, disheartened. ‘‘I'm not a   traditional woman. I never will be. The only time I ever baked a pie I   ended up throwing it in the garbage disposal-and it broke the   disposal.''

‘‘A pie ruined your garbage disposal?'' Mark repeated, then shook his   head. ‘‘Never mind, don't bother explaining how that happened. It seems   to me you're getting ahead of yourself here. You're talking as though   coffee together means a lifetime commitment.''

Shelly wasn't listening. ‘‘What about Janice?'' she demanded. ‘‘She's the one you should be inviting to coffee, not me.''

‘‘What's Janice got to do with this?'' he asked impatiently.

‘‘Janice,'' Shelly snapped, her own temper short. ‘‘The woman you've   decided to marry. Remember her? The love of your life? The woman you're   unofficially engaged to marry.''

‘‘It's not unofficial any longer,'' Mark explained evenly.

‘‘Oh great, you're taking me out to dinner, kissing me and at the same   time picking out engagement rings with another woman.'' She had to admit   he'd never lied to her about his relationship with the faceless  Janice.  From the beginning he'd been forthright and honest about the  other  woman. But it hurt, really hurt, to learn that he was going ahead  with  his plans to marry Janice.

For a moment she'd been shocked into stillness. ‘‘Then … '' She struggled   to force some enthusiasm into her voice. ‘‘Congratulations are in  order.  I wish you both the very best.'' With that she turned and  bounded down  the stairs, taking them recklessly fast.

‘‘Shelly!''

She could hear Mark calling after her, but she ignored him, desperate to   get away before the lump in her throat made it impossible to breathe.   Tears had formed in her eyes and she cursed herself for being so   ridiculous, for caring so much. Her vision blurred and she wiped a hand   across her face, furious with herself for the lack of control. This   marriage was what she'd hoped would happen. What she wanted for Mark.   Wasn't it?

‘‘Shelly, for heaven's sake, will you wait?''

When she reached the bottom of the steps, Shelly moved quickly into a   side street, hoping to disappear in the crowd, praying Mark wouldn't   pursue her.