The Man You'll Marry (12 page)

“I’d like to thank you, if you’d let me,” he said.

She was dropping tea bags into her best ceramic teapot. “Thank me? You already have.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of dinner.”

Jill’s first thought was that she didn’t have anything appropriate to wear. Not to an elegant restaurant, and of course she couldn’t imagine Jordan dining anywhere else. He wasn’t the kind of man who ate in a burger joint.

“Unless you already have plans…”

He was offering her an escape, and his eyes seemed to challenge her to take it.

“No,” she said, almost gasping. Jill wasn’t sure why she accepted so readily, why she didn’t even consider declining. “I don’t have anything planned for tonight.”

“Is there a particular place you’d like to go?”

She shook her head. “You choose.”

Jill felt suddenly light-headed with happiness and anticipation. Trying to keep her voice steady, she added, “I’ll need to change clothes, but that shouldn’t take long.”

He looked at her skirt and blouse as if he hadn’t noticed them before. “You look fine just the way you are,” he said, dismissing her concern.

The kettle whistled and Jill removed it from the burner, pouring the scalding water into the teapot. “This should steep for a few minutes.” She backed out of the kitchen, irrationally fearing that he’d disappear if she let him out of her sight.

She chose the same outfit she’d worn on the trip home—the Hawaiian print shirt with the hot pink flowers. Narrow black pants set it off nicely, as did the shell lei she’d purchased the first day she’d gone touring. Then she freshened her makeup and brushed her hair.

Jordan had poured the tea and was adding sugar to his cup when she entered the kitchen. His gaze didn’t waver or change in any way, yet she could tell he liked her choice.

The phone rang. Jill darted a look at it, willing it to stop. She sighed and went over to check call display.

Shelly.

“Hello, Shelly.” She hoped her voice didn’t convey her lack of enthusiasm.

“How are you? I haven’t heard a word from you since you got home. Are you all right? I’ve been worried. You generally phone once or twice a week, and it’s not like you to—”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“You seem preoccupied. Am I catching you at a bad time? Is Ralph there? Maybe he’ll take the hint and go home. Honestly, Jill, I don’t know why you continue to see that guy. I mean, he’s nice, but he’s about as romantic as mold.”

“Uh, I have company.”

“Company,” Shelly echoed. “Who? No, let me guess. Jordan Wilcox!”

“You got it.”

“Talk to you later. Bye.” The drone of the disconnected line sounded in her ear so fast that Jill was left holding the receiver for several seconds before she realized her friend had hung up.

No sooner had Jill replaced it than the phone rang again. She looked at call display, cast an apologetic glance toward Jordan and snatched up the receiver. “Hello, Shelly.”

“I want it understood that you’re to give me a full report later.”

“Shelly!”

“And don’t you dare try to return that wedding dress. He’s the one, Jill. Quit fighting it. I’ll let you go now,
but just remember, I want details, so be prepared.” She hung up as quickly as she had the first time.

“That was my best friend.”

“Shelly?”

“She’s married to Mark Brady.” Jill waited, wondering if Jordan would recognize the name.

“Mark Brady.” He spoke slowly, as though saying it aloud would jar his memory. “Is Mark a tax consultant? I seem to recall hearing something about him not long ago. Isn’t he the head of his own firm?”

“That’s Mark.” Jill nearly told him how Shelly and Mark had met, but stopped herself just in time. Jordan knew about the wedding dress—though not, of course, its significance—because Jill had inadvertently let it slip that first night.

“And Mark’s married to your best friend?”

“That’s right.” She took a sip of her tea. “When I said I’d met you, Mark knew who you were right away.”

“So you mentioned me.” He seemed pleasantly surprised.

He could have no idea how much he’d been in her thoughts during the past two weeks. She’d tried, heaven knew she’d tried, to push every memory of him from her mind. But it hadn’t worked. She couldn’t explain it, but somehow nothing was the same anymore.

“You ready?” he asked after a moment.

Jill nodded and carried their empty cups to the sink. Then Jordan led her to his car, opening the door and
ushering her inside. When he joined her, he pulled out his ever-present cell phone…and turned it off.

“You don’t need to do that on my account,” she told him.

“I’m not,” he said, his smile tight, almost a grimace. “I’m doing it for me.” With that he started the engine.

Jill had no idea where they were going. He took the freeway and headed north, exiting into the downtown area of Seattle. There were any number of four-star restaurants within a five-block area. Jill was curious, but she didn’t ask. She’d know soon enough.

When Jordan drove into the underground garage of a luxury skyscraper, Jill was momentarily surprised. But then, several of the office complexes housed world-class restaurants.

“I didn’t know there was a restaurant here,” she said conversationally.

“There isn’t.”

“Oh.”

“I live in the penthouse.”

“Oh.”

“Unless you object?”

“No…no, that’s fine.”

“I phoned earlier and asked my cook to prepare dinner for two.”

“You have a cook?” Oddly, that fact astounded her, although she supposed it shouldn’t have, considering his wealth.

He smiled, his first genuine smile since he’d shown up at her door. “You’re easily impressed.”

He talked as though
everyone
employed a cook, and Jill couldn’t help laughing.

They rode a private elevator thirty floors up to the penthouse suite. The view of Puget Sound that greeted Jill as the doors glided open was breathtaking.

“This is beautiful,” she whispered, stepping out. She followed him through his living room, past a white leather sectional sofa and a glass-and-chrome coffee table that held a small abstract sculpture. She wasn’t too knowledgeable when it came to works of art, but this looked valuable.

“That’s a Davis Stanford piece,” Jordan said matter-of-factly.

Jill nodded, hoping he wouldn’t guess how ignorant she was.

“White wine?”

“Please.” Jill couldn’t take her eyes off the view. The waterways of Puget Sound were dotted with white-and-green ferries. The islands—Bainbridge, Whidbey and Vashon—were jewellike against the backdrop of the Olympic Mountains.

“Nothing like Hawaii, is it?” Jordan asked as he handed her a long-stemmed wineglass.

“No, but just as beautiful in its own way.”

“I’m going back to Oahu next week.”

“So soon?” Jill was envious.

“It’s another short trip. Two or three days at most.”

“Perhaps you’ll get a chance to go snorkeling again.”

Jordan shook his head. “I won’t have time for any underwater adventures this trip,” he told her.

Jill perched on the edge of the sofa, staring down at her wine. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to separate you from my time in Oahu,” she said softly. “The rest of my week seemed so…empty.”

“I know what you mean.”

Her heartbeat quickened as his gaze strayed to her mouth. He sat beside her and removed the wine goblet from her unresisting hand. Next his fingers curved around her neck, ever so lightly, brushing aside her hair. His eyes held hers as if he expected resistance. Then slowly, giving her ample opportunity to pull away if she wished, he lowered his mouth to hers.

Jill moaned in anticipation, instinctively moving closer. Common sense shouted in alarm, but she refused to listen. Just once she wanted to know what it was like to be kissed with real passion—to be cherished by a man. Just once she wanted to know what it meant to be adored. Her heart filled with delirious joy. Her hands slid up his chest to his shoulders as she clung to him. He kissed her again, small, nibbling kisses, as though he was afraid of frightening her with the strength of his need. But he must have sensed her receptiveness, because he deepened the kiss.

Suddenly it came to her. The same thing that had happened to Shelly was now happening to her. The phenomenon Aunt Milly had experienced sixty-five years earlier was coming to pass a third time.

The wedding dress.

Abruptly, she broke off the kiss. Panting, she sprang to her feet. Her eyes were wide and incredulous as she gazed down at a surprised Jordan.

“It’s you!” she cried. “It really is you.”

“W
hat do you mean, it’s me?” Jordan demanded. When she didn’t answer, he asked, “What’s wrong, Jill?”

“Everything,” she cried, shaking her head.

“I hurt you?”

“No,” she whispered, “no.” She sobbed quietly as she wrung her hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Why do you have to do anything?”

“Because…oh, you wouldn’t understand.” Worse, she couldn’t tell him. Every time he looked at her, she became more and more convinced that Shelly had been right. Jordan Wilcox was her future.

But she
couldn’t
fall in love with him, because she knew what would happen to her if she did—she’d become like her mother, lonely, bitter and unhappy. If she was going to marry, she wanted a man who was safe and sensible. A man like…Ralph. Yet the thought of spending the rest of her life with Ralph produced an even deeper sense of discontent.

“I’m not an unreasonable man,” Jordan said. Then he added, “Well, generally I’m not. If there’s a problem you can tell me.”

“It’s not supposed to be a problem. According to Shelly and her aunt Milly, it’s a blessing. I know I’m talking in riddles, but…there’s no way you’d understand!”

“Try me.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

“But it has something to do with my kissing you?”

She stared at him blankly. “No. Yes.”

“You seem rather uncertain about this. Perhaps we should try it again….”

“That isn’t necessary.” But even as she spoke, Jordan was reaching for her, pulling her onto his lap. Jill willingly surrendered to his embrace, greeting his kiss with a muffled groan of welcome, a sigh of defeat. His arms held her close, and not for the first time, Jill was stunned by the effect he had on her. It left her feeling both unnerved and overwhelmed.

“Better?” he asked in a remarkably steady voice.

Unable to answer, Jill closed her eyes, then nodded. Better, yes. And worse. Every time he touched her, it confirmed what she feared most.

“I thought so.” He seemed reassured, but that did nothing to comfort Jill. For weeks she’d played a silly game of denial. They’d met, and from that moment on, nothing had been the same.

She didn’t, couldn’t, believe in the power of the wedding dress; she scoffed at the implausibility of its
legend. Yet even Mr. Howard, who’d never heard of Aunt Milly or her dress, had felt compelled to explain Jordan’s past to her, had seen Jill as his future.

She’d spent only three days with Jordan, but she knew more about him than she knew about Ralph, whom she’d been dating for months. Their day on the beach and the dinner with Andrew Howard had given her insights into Jordan’s personality. Since then Jill had found it more difficult to accept what she saw on the surface—the detached, cynical male. The man who wore his I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude like an elaborate mask.

Perhaps she understood him because he was so much like her father. Adam Morrison had lived for the excitement, the risks, of the big deal. He poured his life’s blood into each business transaction because he’d never really acknowledged the importance of family, emotion, human values.

Jordan wouldn’t, either.

Dinner was a strained affair, although Jordan made several efforts to lighten the mood. As he drove her home, Jill sensed that he wanted to say something more. Whatever it was, he left unsaid.

“Have a safe trip,” she told him when he escorted her to her door. Her heart was pounding, not with excitement, but with trepidation, wondering if he planned to kiss her again.

“I’ll call you when I get back,” he told her. And that was all.

“I have a special fondness for this place,” Shelly said as she slipped into a chair opposite Jill. They were meeting for lunch at Patrick’s, a restaurant in the mall where Jill’s branch of Pay Rite was located. Typically, she was ten minutes late. Marriage to Mark, who was habitually prompt, hadn’t improved Shelly’s tardiness. Jill often wondered how they managed to keep their love so strong when they were so different.

Patrick’s had played a minor role in Shelly’s romance with Mark. Jill recalled the Saturday she’d met her there for lunch, and how amused she’d been at Shelly’s crazy story of receiving the infamous wedding dress.

The way Jill felt now—frantic, frightened, confused—was exactly the way Shelly had felt then.

“So tell me everything,” Shelly said breathlessly.

“Jordan stopped by. We had dinner. He left this morning on a business trip,” she explained dispassionately. “There isn’t much to tell.”

Shelly’s hand closed around her water glass, her eyes connecting with Jill’s. “Do you remember when I first met Mark?”

“I’m not likely to forget,” Jill said, smiling despite her present mood.

“Anytime you or my mother or anyone else asked me about Mark, I always said there wasn’t anything to tell. Remember?”

“Yes.” Jill thought of how Shelly’s face would be
come expressionless, her tone abrupt, whenever anyone mentioned Mark’s name.

“Well, when I told you nothing was happening, I was stretching the truth,” Shelly continued. “There was plenty going on, but nothing I felt I could share. Even with you.” She raised her eyebrows. “You, my friend, have the same look I did then. A lot has taken place between you and Jordan. So much that you’re frightened out of your wits. Trust me, I know.”

“He kissed me again,” Jill admitted.

“It was better than before?”

“Worse!”

Shelly apparently found Jill’s answer humorous. She tried to hide her smile behind the menu, then lowered it to say, “Don’t count on your feelings becoming any less complicated. They won’t.”

“He’s going to be away for a few days. Thank goodness, because it gives me time to think.”

“Oh, Jill,” Shelly said with a sympathetic sigh, “I wish there was something I could say to help you. Why are you fighting this so hard?” She grinned sheepishly. “I fought it, too. Be smart, just accept it. Love isn’t really all that terrifying once you let go of your doubts.”

“Instead of talking about Jordan, why don’t we order lunch?” Jill suggested a little curtly. “I’m starved.”

“Me, too.”

The waitress arrived at their table a moment later, and Jill ordered the split-pea soup and a turkey sandwich.

“Wait a minute,” Shelly interrupted, motioning
toward the waitress. She turned to Jill. “You don’t even
like
split-pea soup. You never order it.” She gave Jill an odd look, then turned back to the waitress. “She’ll have the clam chowder.”

“Shelly!”

The waitress wrote down the order quickly, as though she feared an argument was about to erupt.

“You’re more upset than I realized,” Shelly said when they were alone. “Ordering split-pea soup—I can’t believe it.”

“It’s soup, Shelly, not nuclear waste.” Her friend definitely had a tendency to overreact. It drove Jill crazy, but it was the very thing that made Shelly so endearing.

“I’m going to call Jordan Wilcox myself,” Shelly announced suddenly.

“You’re going to
what?
” It was all Jill could do to remain in her seat.

“You heard me.”

“Shelly, no! I absolutely forbid you to discuss me with Jordan. How would you have felt if I’d called Mark?”

Shelly frowned. “I’d have been furious.”

“I will be, too, if you say so much as one word to Jordan about me.”

Shelly paused, her eyes wide with concern. “But I’m afraid you’re going to mess this up.”

Nothing to fear there—Jill already had. She reached for a package of rye crisps from the bread basket, and Shelly frowned again. That was when she remembered she wasn’t any fonder of rye crisps than she was of split-pea soup.

“Promise me you’ll stay out of it,” Jill pleaded. “Please.”

“All right,” Shelly muttered. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Jill’s mother said as she opened the front door. Elaine Morrison was in her late fifties, slim and attractive.

“I thought I’d bring over your gift from Hawaii,” Jill said, following her mother into the kitchen, where Elaine poured them each a glass of iced tea. Jill set the box of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts on the counter.

“I’m glad your vacation went so well.”

Jill pulled out a bar stool and sat at the counter, trying to look relaxed when she was anything but. “I met someone while I was in Hawaii.”

Her mother paused, then smiled. “I thought you might have.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Oh, there’s a certain look about you. Now tell me how you met, what he’s like, where he’s from and what he does for a living.”

Jill laughed at the rapid-fire questions.

Elaine added slices of lemon to their tea and started across the kitchen, a new excitement in her step. Finally, after all these years, her mother was beginning to overcome the bitterness her husband’s obsession with busi
ness had created. She was finally coming to terms not only with his death but with her grief over his neglect.

Jill was relieved and delighted by the signs of her mother’s recovery, but she had to say, “Frankly, Mom, I don’t think you’ll like him.”

Her mother looked surprised. “Why ever not?”

Jill didn’t hesitate. “Because he reminds me of Daddy.”

Her mother’s face contorted with shock, and tears sprang to her eyes. “Jill, no! For the love of heaven, no.”

“I’ve been giving some thought to your suggestion,” Jill said to Ralph a few hours later. Her nerves were in turmoil. The clam chowder sat like a dead weight in the pit of her stomach, and her mother’s dire warnings had shaken her badly.

Ralph wasn’t tall and strikingly handsome like Jordan, but he was a comfortable sort of man. He made a person feel at ease. In fact, his laid-back manner was a blessed relief after the high-stress, high-energy hours she’d spent with Jordan, few though they were.

Jordan Wilcox could pull together a deal for an apartment complex before Ralph stepped out of the shower in the morning. Ralph’s idea of an exhilarating evening was doing the newspaper crossword puzzle.

Everything about Jordan was complex. Everything about Ralph was uncomplicated; he was a straightforward, honest man who’d be a good husband and a loving father.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Ralph prompted when she didn’t immediately continue.

Jill held her water glass. “You said something not long ago about the two of us giving serious consideration to making our relationship permanent and…and I wanted you to know I was…I’ve been giving some thought to that.”

Ralph didn’t reveal any emotion. He put down his hamburger, looked at her and asked casually, “Why now?”

“Uh…I’m going to be twenty-nine soon.” She managed to sound calm, although she felt anything but.

She was the biggest coward who ever lived. But what else could she do? Her mother had become nearly hysterical when Jill had told her about Jordan. Her own heart was filled with trepidation. On the one hand, there was Shelly, so confident Jordan was the man for Jill. On the other was her mother, adamant that Jill would be forever sorry if she got involved with a workaholic.

Jill was trapped in the middle, frightened and unsure.

Ralph relaxed against the red vinyl upholstery. The diner was his favorite place to eat, and he took her there every time they dined out. “So you think we should consider marriage?”

It was the subject Jill had been leading up to all evening, yet when Ralph posed the question directly, she hesitated. If only Jordan hadn’t kissed her. If only he hadn’t held her in his arms. And if only she hadn’t spoken to her mother…

“I missed you while you were away,” Ralph said, his gaze holding hers.

Jill knew this was about as close to romance as she was likely to get from Ralph. Romance was his weakest suit, dependability and steadiness his strongest. Ralph would always be there by his wife’s side. He’d make the kind of father who played catch in the backyard with his son. The kind of father who’d bring his wife and daughter pretty corsages on Easter morning. He was a rock, a fortress of permanence. She wished she could fall in love with him.

Jordan might have a talent for making millions, but all the money in the world couldn’t buy happiness.

“I missed you, too,” Jill said softly. She’d thought of Ralph, had wondered about him. A few times, anyway. Hadn’t she mailed him a postcard? Hadn’t she brought him a book on volcanoes?

“I’m glad to hear that,” Ralph said. Then, clearing his throat, he asked, “Jill Morrison, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

The question was out now, ready for her to answer. A proposal was what she’d been hinting at all evening. Now that Ralph had asked, Jill wasn’t sure what she felt. Relief? No, it wasn’t even close to that. Pleasure? Yes—in a way. But not a throw-open-the-windows-and-shout kind of joy.

Joy
. The word hit her like an unexpected punch. Joy was what she’d experienced the first time Jordan had
taken her in his arms. A free-flowing joy and the promise of so much more.

The promise she was rejecting.

Ralph might not be the love of her life, but he’d care for her and devote his life to her. It was enough.

“Jill?”

She tried to smile, tried to look happy and excited. Ralph deserved that much. “Yes,” she whispered, stretching her hand across the table. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“What do you mean you’re engaged to marry Ralph?” Shelly demanded. Her voice had risen to such a high pitch that Jill held the receiver away from her ear.

“He asked me tonight and I’ve accepted.”

“You can’t
do
that!” her friend shrieked.

“Of course I can.”

“What about Jordan?” Shelly asked next.

“I’d already decided not to see him again.” Jill was able to keep her composure, although it wasn’t easy.

“If marrying Ralph is typical of your decisions, then I’d like to suggest you talk to a mental-health professional.”

Jill laughed despite herself. Her decision had been based on maintaining her sanity, not destroying it.