The First Man You Meet

by Debbie Macomber

  ‘‘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 PLA
NNING to see the play this afternoon myself,’’ Shelly admitted hesitantly. ‘‘Jill had to cancel out at the last minute.’’

  ‘‘It seems Janice can’t attend, either.’’

  Hearing the other woman’s name, the woman Mark loved, had a curious and unexpected effect on Shelly. Her heart sank, and she felt a sharp pang of disappointment. She rebounded quickly, however, forcing a lightness into her voice, a blitheness she didn’t feel. ‘‘Listen, there’s no need for you to miss the play. I’ll call the ticket office and see about an exchange.’’

  ‘‘No, I will,’’ Mark offered.

  ‘‘That’s ridiculous. Jill really wanted to see this play and—’’

  ‘‘Would it really be so terrible if we both decided to attend the same performance?’’

  ‘‘Uh…’’ The question caught Shelly unprepared. Mark was the one who’d suggested they avoid each other.

  ‘‘What could it possibly hurt? You have your ticket and I have mine. It’d be absurd to let them go to waste because we’re afraid of seeing each other again, don’t you think?’’

  Forming a single, coherent thought seemed beyond Shelly at that moment. After her long talk with Jill the day before, followed by the pep talk she’d given herself, she’d recovered a degree of composure. Now, all of a sudden, she wasn’t sure of anything.

  ‘‘I don’t think it should matter,’’ she said finally, although it did matter, greatly.

  ‘‘Good. Enjoy the play.’’

  ‘‘You, too.’’

  The theater was within walking distance of her apartment building, and Shelly left as soon as she’d finished talking to Mark. He was right. Just because they each had tickets to the same play was no reason for either of them to be penalized.

  So Mark was going to see Street Suite. It wasn’t the type of play she would have thought he’d enjoy. But the man was full of surprises. Riding mopeds on the beach, kissing so spectacularly, and now this…

  Shelly’s mind was full of Mark as she hurried down the steep hill on Cherry Street. The theater was only a block away when she saw him. Her pulse soared and she wasn’t sure if she should smile and wave or simply ignore him.

  She didn’t need to do either. He stood on the sidewalk, waiting for her.

  ‘‘You’re late,’’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘‘But then you traditionally are.’’ His grin was wide and welcoming. ‘‘I couldn’t see any reason not to watch the play together,’’ he went on. ‘‘What do you say?’’

  ‘‘You’re sure?’’

  ‘‘Positive.’’ He offered her his arm, and she reflected that it was the kind of old-fashioned courtesy, the kind of gentlemanly gesture, she’d expected from Mark.

  The usher seated them and smiled constantly as if to say they were a handsome couple. Shelly was terribly tempted to explain that Mark was engaged to someone else; luckily she managed to hold her tongue. Minutes after they’d settled into their seats, the curtain rose.

  The play, a clever satire about urban life, was as good as the reviews claimed, and Shelly enjoyed herself thoroughly. Throughout the performance, however, she was all too aware of Mark sitting next to her. She found herself wondering if he was equally aware of her. She also found herself wondering how long it would be before they ‘‘bumped’’ into each other again—and hoped it was soon.

  By the end of the play Shelly felt inspired and full of enthusiasm, eager to start a new project of her own. As she and Mark left the theater, she talked excitedly about her idea for the ‘‘ocean moods’’ series. He asked a few questions and even suggested some shots. Before she realized it, they were several blocks past the theater, headed in the opposite direction from her apartment building. Shelly paused and glanced around.

  ‘‘There’s an excellent Chinese restaurant in this neighborhood,’’ was all Mark said. Without giving her the opportunity to decline, he gently guided her toward the place he’d mentioned.

  It was early for dinner, and they were seated immediately. Although they’d been talking comfortably during their walk, Shelly found herself suddenly self-conscious. She toyed with the linen napkin, smoothing it across her lap.

  ‘‘I hadn’t expected to like the play as much as I did,’’ he said after a while.

  Shelly thought it a bit off that he’d ordered tickets for this production, but perhaps he’d gotten them because Janice had wanted to see Street Suite.

  ‘‘It’s a little frightening the way we keep finding each other, isn’t it?’’ she ventured.

  ‘‘I can see how you’d find it disconcerting,’’ Mark answered.

  ‘‘You don’t?’’

  Mark shrugged. ‘‘I haven’t given it much thought.’’

  ‘‘I’ll admit all these…coincidences do throw me,’’ she said, running her index finger along the outline of the fire-breathing dragon on the menu cover. Chancing a glance in his direction, she added, ‘‘But I’m learning to deal with it.’’

  ‘‘So you feel you’ve been caught in something beyond your control?’’ Mark surprised her by asking.

  Shelly lifted her gaze to his, amazed by the intensity she read in his eyes. ‘‘No, not really. Well…a little bit, maybe. Do you?’’

  ‘‘It wasn’t my aunt Milly who had the dream.’’

  Shelly smiled and dropped her gaze. ‘‘No, but as my friend Jill reminded me recently, no fifty-year-old dress is going to dictate my life. Or yours,’’ she felt obliged to add. Then she realized why he’d asked the question. ‘‘You must feel overwhelmed by all of this. All of a sudden I’ve been thrust into your life. There’s no escaping me, is there?’’ she said wryly. ‘‘Every time you turn around, there I am.’’

  ‘‘Are you going to stand up and announce to everyone in the restaurant that you refuse to marry me?’’

  ‘‘No.’’ Shelly was appalled at his remark until she remembered that she’d done exactly that the first time they met.

  ‘‘If you can resist doing that, then I think I can bear up under pressure.’’

  Shelly ignored his mild sarcasm. ‘‘I’m not interested in marriage yet,’’ she told him seriously—just in case he’d forgotten. ‘‘I’m content with my life. And I’m too busy for a husband and family.’’

  She hadn’t noticed how forcefully she was speaking until she saw several of the people at other tables glancing in her direction. Instantly she lowered her voice. ‘‘Sorry, my views on marriage seem to be more fervent than I realized. But I’m not about to let either my mother or my dear aunt Milly determine when I decide to settle down and marry.’’

  ‘‘Personally, I can’t see you ever settling down,’’ Mark said with a small grin. ‘‘You don’t have to worry. When you’re ready, you’ll know it.’’

  ‘‘Did you?’’ She hadn’t meant to bring up Janice, but now seemed as good a time as any to remind him—and her—that there was someone else in his life.

  Mark shrugged casually. ‘‘More or less. I took a good, long look at my life and discovered I’d already achieved several of my professional goals. It was time to invest my energy in developing the personal aspects of my life. Marriage, children and the like.’’

  Mark made marriage sound as if it were the next chapter in a book he was reading or a connect-the-dots picture. Shelly couldn’t stop herself from frowning.

  ‘‘You have a problem with that?’’

  ‘‘Not a problem, exactly. I happen to think of marriage a bit differently, that’s all.’’

  ‘‘In what way?’’

  He seemed genuinely interested, otherwise she would have kept her opinions to herself. ‘‘People should fall in love,’’ she said slowly. ‘‘I don’t think it’s necessary or even possible to plan for that to happen. Love can be unexpected—it can take a couple by surprise, knock them both off their feet.’’

  ‘‘You make falling in love sound like a bad case of the flu.’’

  Shelly smiled. ‘‘In some ways, I think that’s exactly how it should be. Marriage
is one of the most important decisions in anyone’s life, so it should be a deeply felt decision. It should feel inevitable. It’s the union of two lives, after all. So you can’t simply check your watch and announce ‘it’s time.’’’ She was suddenly concerned that she’d spoken out of turn and might have offended him, but one quick glance assured her that wasn’t the case.

  ‘‘You surprise me,’’ Mark said, leaning forward. ‘‘I would never have guessed it.’’

  ‘‘Guessed what?’’ She was beginning to feel a little foolish now.

  ‘‘That a woman who gives the impression of being a scatterbrain is really quite reflective. Beneath those glow-in-the-dark sweatshirts lies a very romantic heart.’’

  ‘‘I seem to have a tendency to get emotional about certain things,’’ she answered, studying the menu, eager to change the subject. ‘‘I’ve heard hot-and-sour soup is wonderful. Have you ever tried it?’’

  Their conversation over dinner remained light and amusing. Shelly noticed that Mark avoided any more discussion of a personal nature, as did she.

  After they’d finished their dinner and Mark had paid the bill, they leisurely strolled back toward the theater. Mark offered to drive her home when they reached his parked car, but Shelly declined. Her apartment was only a couple of blocks north and she preferred to walk.

  Walk and think. Their time together had given her plenty to think about.

  ‘‘Thank you for dinner,’’ she said as he unlocked the car.

  ‘‘You’re welcome,’’ he answered. ‘‘Well, good night for now,’’ he said, grinning. ‘‘I suspect I’ll be seeing you soon.’’

  She grinned back. ‘‘Probably within a day or two. Maybe we should synchronize our schedules,’’ she teased.

  ‘‘That wouldn’t bother you, would it?’’

  ‘‘Oh, no. What about you?’’ She hated the way her voice rose expectantly with the question. She certainly wasn’t bothered by the prospect of seeing him again. In fact, she was downright eager to see what tricks fate would play on them next.

  Mark’s eyes found hers then, and he slowly pocketed his car keys. His look was so potent, so full of emotion, that Shelly took a step in retreat. ‘‘I had a wonderful afternoon, a wonderful evening. Thanks again,’’ she said nervously.