Free The Man You'll Marry by Debbie Macomber Page A

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.
    Mark leaned forward. “I would never have guessed it,” he said.
    “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 get emotional about certain things,” she responded, studying the menu, eager to change the subject. “I really like hot-and-sour soup. 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 strolled leisurely 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? If we ran into each other, I mean.”
    “Oh, no. What about you?” She hated the way her voice rose expectantly with the question. She certainlywasn’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.
    Mark didn’t say a word as he continued to gaze at her.
    “The play was great, wasn’t it? And dinner…fabulous.” Shelly’s throat seemed to close as Mark stepped onto the curb and walked toward her.
    The whole world came to an abrupt halt when she realized he intended to kiss her. Not again , her mind shouted. Please hurry , her heart sang.
    Her heart tripped wildly as Mark lowered his head, his mouth seeking hers. Despite the fierce battle inside her, Shelly had to admit how much she wanted this kiss. If for no other reason, she told herself, than to prove that the first time had been a fluke.
    Only it happened again. But this kiss was a hundred times more compelling than the first one they’d shared. A hundred times more exciting.
    Shelly wanted to cry out at the unfairness of it all. If a man’s kiss was going to affect her like this, why did it have to be Mark Brady’s?
    He broke away from her reluctantly, his warm breath fanning her cheek. His eyes were filled with questions, filled with surprise. Shelly wasn’t sure whather own eyes were saying to him. She didn’t even want to know.
    “Take care,” he whispered as he turned away.
     

    Shelly stayed home from work on Monday. She wasn’t sick, just puzzled and confused. Nothing about her relationship with Mark made sense. He was everything she didn’t want in a man—and everything she did.
    Shelly didn’t realize how despondent she was until she found herself standing barefoot in front of her closet, carrying on a conversation with Aunt Milly’s wedding dress.
    “I’ll have you know I had a perfectly good life until you got here,” she muttered. “Now my whole world’s been turned upside down.” She slammed the door shut, then jerked it open. “No wonder Mrs. Livingston’s cat wouldn’t go near you. You’re dangerous.”

Nine

    “T he show was great,” Shelly told Jill over coffee Wednesday