The Man You'll Marry (4 page)

S
helly struggled to open the door of the Internal Revenue office, her arms weighed down with a huge box stuffed full of receipts and records for the audit. By bracing the box against the wall with her knee, she freed one hand to open the door. For the first time ever, she’d completed her tax return early—all by herself, too—and
this
was her reward. She grumbled righteously and bit her lip, more in anxiety than annoyance.

She’d just managed to grasp the door handle, when the door unexpectedly opened and she staggered into the room, nearly colliding with an end table. She did a quick pirouette, convinced she’d ruined a new pair of panty hose. With a heartfelt sigh, she set her box of records on the floor and sank into the first available chair, neatly arranging her unaccustomed skirt around her knees. Only then did she bother to look around. There was one other person in the large reception area.

Shelly’s heart did a nosedive, landing in the pit of her
stomach. The man who’d opened the door for her, the man sitting in this very waiting room, was none other than Mark Brady—the man she’d hoped to avoid for the rest of her natural life. She gave an involuntary gasp.

Mark was leafing through the dog-eared pages of a magazine when he happened to glance her way. The automatic smile faded from his face, and his eyes narrowed as if he strongly suspected Shelly had purposely arranged this meeting.

“What are you doing here?” Shelly demanded.

“I might ask you the same thing.”

“I didn’t follow you here, if that’s what you’re implying!”

“Listen, Ms…Hansen, I really couldn’t care less.” With that he returned to his magazine, but he raised his head again a moment later. “
You’re
the person who blurted out to everyone within hearing distance that you weren’t marrying me. As if I’d even asked! As if I even
knew you
!”

Shelly felt the heat rising up her neck and offered the first excuse she could think of. “I…was distraught.”

“Obviously,” he muttered from behind his magazine.

A few minutes of strained silence passed. Shelly shifted uncomfortably in her chair, checking her watch approximately every ten seconds. She was early for her appointment, but if this was where promptness got you, she’d prefer to be late.

“All right, I apologize,” Shelly said when she couldn’t tolerate the silence any longer. “What I said was ridiculous and…and out of turn—”

“Out of turn,” Mark echoed, throwing the magazine down on the table. “I repeat—I don’t even know you.”

“I realize that.”

He inhaled deeply, which drew her attention to his broad, muscular chest. She saw that he was as meticulously dressed as he’d been at their first encounter. His dark suit and silk tie, however conventional, added a touch of sophistication to his natural good looks.

“If there’s anyone to blame for this it’s Aunt Milly,” Shelly said, more to herself than him.

“Aunt Milly?” Mark repeated, sounding unsure. He eyed her warily.

She’d said this much; she might as well launch into the whole ludicrous tale.

“Actually, it has more to do with the wedding dress than with my aunt Milly, although by now the two of them are inseparable in my mind. I don’t usually dabble in this sort of thing, but I’m beginning to think there might be something supernatural about that silly dress, after all.”

“Supernatural?”

“Magic, if you prefer.”

“Magic in a wedding dress?” Mark gazed hopefully at the door that led to the inner offices of Internal Revenue, as though he was anxious to be called away.

“It’s unbelievable, but the dress fits both Jill and me, which is virtually impossible. You saw Jill—she’s the friend I was having lunch with last Saturday. I know we were halfway across the room from you, but you
couldn’t help noticing how much shorter she is than I am. We’re completely different sizes.”

Mark hurriedly reached for the magazine as if he wanted to shut her out before she said anything else.

“I know it seems crazy. I don’t like this any better than you do, but I’m afraid you’re the one Aunt Milly mentioned in her letter.” Well, it was only fair to tell him that.

Mark glanced in her direction again, blue eyes suspicious. “Your aunt Milly mentioned me in a letter?”

“Not by name—but she said she had a clear vision of me in the wedding dress and I was standing with a tall man. She also referred to blue eyes. You’re tall and you have blue eyes and the legend says I’m going to marry the first man I meet after receiving the dress.”

“And I just happened to be that man?”

“Yes,” Shelly cried. “
Now
do you understand why I was so disturbed when we met?”

“Not entirely,” Mark said after a moment.

Shelly sighed loudly. How obtuse could the man be? “You’re tall, aren’t you? And you have blue eyes.”

He flipped intently through the magazine, not looking at her as he spoke. “I really don’t care what the letter said, nor am I concerned about this wedding dress you keep bringing up.”

“Of course you don’t care,” Shelly said indignantly. “Why should you? It must all seem quite absurd to you. And I’m aware that I’m overreacting, but I do have a tendency to get emotional. If it helps any, I want you to know I’m happy with my life just the way it is. I don’t
want to get married—to anyone.” When she’d finished, she drew in a deep breath and began leafing idly through a magazine, doing her utmost to ignore him.

Silence returned. Silences had always bothered Shelly. It was as if she felt personally responsible for filling them. “If you want something to be grateful about, you can thank your lucky stars I didn’t mention you to my mother.”

“Your mother,” Mark repeated. “Does she know about Aunt Milly sending you this…dress?”

“Of course she does,” Shelly answered, closing the magazine. “She’s phoned me every day since she heard, because she thinks I’m going to meet that special someone any minute.”

“And you didn’t say anything about me?”

“How could I? The instant I do that, she’ll be calling the caterers.”

“I see.” The edges of his mouth lifted as though he was beginning to find the situation amusing. “She believes in the power of this dress, too?”

“Unfortunately, yes. You have to understand where my mother stands on the issue of marriage,” Shelly continued, undaunted.

“I’m not sure I want to,” Mark muttered under his breath.

Shelly disregarded his comment. “By age twenty-eight—my age now, coincidentally—Mom had been married for eight years and already had three children. She’s convinced I’m letting the best years of my life
slip away. There’s nothing I can say to make her believe differently.”

“Then I’ll add my gratitude that you didn’t mention me.”

Mollified, Shelly nodded, then glanced at her watch. Her meeting was in ten minutes and she was nervous, since this was the first time she’d done her own taxes. She should have known there’d be a problem.

“I take it you’re here for an audit?” Mark asked.

She nodded again, studying her tax return, sure she’d be in jail by nightfall without even understanding what she’d done wrong.

“Relax.”

“How can I?”

“Have you knowingly hidden something from the government? Lied about the income you received, or claimed expenditures you’ve never made?”

“Oh, no!”

“Then you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I don’t?” Shelly stared at him, envying his confidence. She’d been restless for days, worrying about this meeting. If it wasn’t the wedding dress giving her nightmares, it was the audit.

“Don’t volunteer any information unless they ask for it.”

“All right.”

“Did you prepare your own tax return?”

“Well, yes. It didn’t seem that complicated, and well, this sounds silly but Jill bet me I couldn’t do it. So I did.
Back in February. You see, numbers tend to confuse me and I decided to accept the challenge, and…” She realized she was chattering, something she did when she was nervous. Forcing herself to stay quiet, she scanned her return for the hundredth time, wondering what she could have possibly done wrong.

“Do you want me to look it over for you?”

Shelly was surprised by his generosity. “If you wouldn’t mind. Are you being audited yourself?”

Mark smiled and shook his head. “A client of mine is.”

“Oh.”

He crossed the room and sat next to her. When Shelly handed him her tax return, he quickly ran down the row of figures, then asked her several questions.

“I’ve got everything right here,” she assured him, gesturing toward the carton she’d lugged in with her. “I really am careful about saving everything I should.”

Mark gestured at the large cardboard box. “This is all for one year?”

“No,” she admitted sheepishly. “I brought along everything I had for the past six years. I mean, it made sense at the time.”

“That really wasn’t necessary.”

“I’d rather be safe than sorry,” Shelly said with a shrug. She watched Mark as he scrutinized her return. At such close range, she saw that his eyes were even bluer than she’d thought.
Blue as the sky on a bright July afternoon
…Her heart felt heavy in her chest, and hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep herself from staring.

Mark handed back her return. “Everything looks fine. I don’t think you’ll have a problem.”

It was astonishing how relieved she felt at hearing that. No, at hearing that from
him
. Mark smiled at her and Shelly found herself responding readily with a smile of her own. The fluttery sensation returned to her stomach. She knew her eyes were wide and questioning and although she tried to look away, she couldn’t do it.

Surprise mingled with gentleness on his face, as if he were seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. He liked what he saw—Shelly could read that in his eyes. Slowly his gaze traveled over her features, and she felt her pulse speed up. The letter she’d received from Aunt Milly flitted through her mind, but instead of dismissing the memory, she wondered,
Could there really be something to all this?

Mark was the one to break eye contact. He stood abruptly and hurried back to his seat. “I don’t think you have to worry.”

“Yes, you told me.”

“I mean about your aunt Milly’s wedding dress.”

“I don’t have to worry?” Shelly repeated. She wasn’t sure she understood.

“Not with me, at any rate.”

“I don’t quite follow….” If he was even half-aware of the way her heart was clamoring as they gazed into each other’s eyes, he wouldn’t be nearly as confident.

“I’m engaged.”

“Engaged?” Shelly felt as though someone had slugged her in the stomach. Her first reaction was anger. “You couldn’t have mentioned this sooner?” she snapped.

“It’s not official yet. Janice hasn’t picked out a diamond. Nor have we discussed our plans with her family.”

The irritation faded, swallowed by an overwhelming sense of relief. “Engaged,” she murmured, reminding herself that she really had no interest in marriage. And this proved there was no such thing as a “magic” wedding dress. If Mark was involved with Janice, he wouldn’t be free to marry her. It was that simple. Shelly leaped to her feet and started to pace.

“Are you all right?” Mark asked. “You’re looking pale.”

She nodded and pressed her hands to her cheeks, which suddenly felt hot. “I’m so relieved,” she whispered hoarsely. “You have no idea how relieved I am. You’re engaged…My goodness, I feel like I’ve got a new lease on life.”

“As I explained,” Mark said, frowning, “it isn’t official yet.”

“That’s okay. You’re committed to someone else and that’s all that matters. However—” she forced a smile “—you might have said something sooner and saved me all this anxiety.”

“You did ask that day at the mall, but I was more concerned with avoiding a scene than revealing the personal details of my life.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“No problem.”

Shelly settled back in the chair and crossed her legs, hoping to strike a relaxed pose. She even managed to skim a couple of magazines, although she barely knew what she was reading.

Finally, the receptionist opened the door and called her name. Eager to get this over with, Shelly stood, picking up the large box she’d brought with her. She paused on her way out of the reception area and turned to Mark. “I wish you and Janice every happiness,” she said formally.

“Thank you,” he answered, then grinned. “Same to you and whatever, uh, lucky guy the wedding dress finds you.”

S
he should be happy, Shelly told herself early the following morning. Not only had she survived the audit—in fact she’d come away with an unexpected refund—but she’d learned that Mark was practically engaged.

Yes, she should be dancing in the streets, singing in the aisles…Instead she’d been struggling with a strange melancholy ever since their last encounter. She seemed to have lost her usual vitality, her sense of fun.

Now it was Saturday, and for once she had no looming deadlines, no appointments, no pressing errands. Remembering the exhilaration and solace she’d felt when she recorded an ocean storm sequence recently, Shelly decided to see if she could recapture some of those feelings. She headed over to Long Beach, a resort town on the Washington coastline. The sky was clear and almost cloudless; the sun was bright and pleasantly warm—a perfect spring day. Once she drove onto the freeway, the miles sped past and two hours later she
was standing on the sandy beach with the breeze riffling her long hair.

She walked around for a while, enjoying the sights and sounds—the chirping of the sea gulls, the salty spray of the Pacific Ocean and the scent of wind and sea. She was satisfied with her beach DVD and started to work out plans for a whole series—the ocean in different seasons, different moods. That would be something special, she thought, something unique.

She wandered down the beach, kicking at the sand with the toes of her running shoes. Tucking her fingertips in the pockets of her jeans, she breathed in the vivid freshness around her. After an hour or so, she made her way back to the concession stands, where she bought a hot dog and a cold drink.

Then, just because it looked like fun, she rented a moped.

She sped along the shore, thrilled with the sensation of freedom, reveling in the solitude and the roar of pounding surf.

The wind tossed her hair about her face until it was a confusion of curls. Shelly laughed aloud and listened as the galloping breeze carried off the sound.

Her motorized bike rushed forward, spitting sand in its wake. She felt reckless with exhilaration, as though there was nothing she couldn’t do. It was that kind of afternoon. That kind of day.

When she least expected it, someone else on a moped raced past her. Shelly hadn’t encountered anyone dur
ing her ride and this person took her by surprise. She glanced quickly over her shoulder, astonished by how far she’d traveled. The only other person she could see was the one who’d passed her.

To her surprise, the rider did an abrupt turnaround and headed back in her direction. With the sun in her eyes and the wind pelting her, Shelly slowed to a crawl and shaded her eyes with one hand.

It wasn’t until he was nearly beside her that Shelly recognized the other rider.

Mark Brady.

She was so shocked that she allowed the engine to die, her feet dropping to the sand to maintain her balance. Mark appeared equally shocked. He braked abruptly.

“Shelly?” He seemed not to believe it was her.

Shelly shook her head and blinked a couple of times just to make sure she wasn’t fantasizing. She certainly hadn’t expected to encounter Mark Brady on a beach two hours out of Seattle. Mr. Conservative riding a moped! This time, though, he wasn’t wearing a dark suit. He didn’t have his briefcase with him, either. And he looked even handsomer than usual in worn jeans and a University of Washington sweatshirt.

“Mark?” She couldn’t prevent the astonishment from creeping into her voice.

“What are you doing here?”

She heard the hostility in his tone and answered him coolly. “The same thing as you, apparently.” She pushed the hair from her face, and the wind promptly blew it back.

Mark’s blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You didn’t happen to follow me, did you?”

“Follow you?” she repeated indignantly. She’d rarely been more insulted. “Follow you!” she said again, starting her moped and revving the engine. “May I remind you that I was on the beach first? If anyone was doing any following, it was
you
following me.” She was breathless by the time she finished. “In fact, you’re the last person I’d follow anywhere!”

Mark scowled at her. “The feeling’s mutual. I’m not in the mood for another story about your aunt Martha’s damn wedding dress, either.”

Shelly felt an unexpected flash of pain. “I was having a perfectly wonderful afternoon until you arrived,” she said stiffly.

“I was having a good time myself,” he muttered.

“Then I suggest we go our separate ways and forget we ever met.”

Mark looked as if he was about to say something else, but Shelly was in no frame of mind to listen. She twisted the accelerator on the handlebar of her moped and took off down the beach. Although she knew she was being unreasonable, she was furious. Furious at the surge of joy she’d felt when she recognized him. Furious at Mark, because he didn’t seem even a little pleased to see her. She bit her lower lip, remembering the comment he’d made about not wanting to hear any more about her “damn wedding dress.” Now, that was just rude, she told herself righteously. She could
never
be interested in a man who was not only conventional but rude.

Squinting, Shelly hunched her shoulders against the wind, in a hurry now to return to the boardwalk. She hadn’t meant to go nearly this far.

The wet, compact sand made for smooth, fast riding and Shelly stayed close to the water’s edge in an effort to outdistance Mark. Not that he was likely to chase her, but she wanted to avoid any possibility of another embarrassing encounter.

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, otherwise she would’ve 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.

“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. 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, 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 agreed. 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 expected. 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. “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 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, deciding she believed him.

“Then how do you explain that we’ve inadvertently bumped 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,” he muttered.

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 deal with 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 his moped and starting the 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 abandon her.

“I hope you’re right about that,” he said, revving the engine.

“You…you could let someone know,” she ventured. Maybe the rental agency would 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 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’d 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 any choice. She’d been dragging her moped along for perhaps ten minutes when she noticed another 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?”

“No,” she admitted, smiling half in relief, half in pleasure. “Can’t you tell when a woman means something and when she’s just being polite?”

“I guess not.” He smiled back, apparently in a jovial mood. “Rest,” he said, parking his own moped and taking hers. “A truck will be along any minute.”

Shelly sank gratefully down on the lush sand. Mark
lowered himself onto the beach beside her. She plucked several blades of grass and began weaving them industriously together. That way, she wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Are you always this stubborn?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said quietly, giving him a shy smile. Shelly couldn’t remember being shy in her life. But something about Mark made her feel shaky inside, and oddly weak. An unfamiliar sensation, but she dared not analyze it, dared not examine it too closely. She turned away from him and closed her eyes, trying to picture Janice, the woman he was going to marry. Despite her usually creative imagination, Shelly couldn’t seem to visualize her.

“Shelly, what’s wrong?”

“Wrong?”

“It’s not like you to be so quiet.”

She grinned. They were barely more than acquaintances, and he already knew her. “Nothing.”

“I think there must be.” His finger against the side of her face guided her eyes toward him. Their lips were so close. Shelly’s breath seemed to be caught in her throat as she stared helplessly into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen….