Free The First Man You Meet by Debbie Macomber

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 foundherself 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.