The Man You'll Marry by Debbie Macomber Page A

candid response seemed to unnerve him. He frowned and rubbed the side of his jaw. “I know what you mean. I’m beginning to like you, too.”
    “See!” she cried, raising both hands. “If we don’t take care of this now, heaven only knows what could happen. It has the potential of ruining both our lives. We’re mature adults, aren’t we?” At the moment, though, she felt singularly lacking in maturity.
    All her senses were clamoring, telling her to enjoy their brief time together, despite the consequences. It was what her heart wanted, but she couldn’t allow her life to be ruled by her heart. Not when it came to Mark.
    “Liking each other doesn’t have to be a federal crime,” he said, advancing one step toward her.
    “You’re right, of course, but I know myself too well. I could easily fall in love with you, Mark.” She didn’t dare admit she already had. “Before we knew it, we’d be spending more and more time with each other. We might even become seriously involved.”
    He remained suspiciously silent.
    “You’re a wonderful man. If my mother were to meet you she’d be shouting from the rooftops, she’d be so thrilled. For a while I might convince myself that we could really make something of this relationship. I might even consider taking cooking classes because you’re the kind of man who’d expect a woman to know how to make a roast and mashed potatoes.”
    “It’d probably come in handy someday,” he said.
    “That’s what I thought,” she murmured, disheartened. “I’m not a traditional woman. I never will be. The only time I ever baked a pie I ended up throwing it in the garbage disposal—and it broke the disposal.”
    “A pie ruined your garbage disposal?” Mark repeated, then shook his head. “Never mind, don’t bother explaining. It seems to me you’re getting ahead of yourself here. You’re talking as though coffee together means a lifetime commitment.”
    Shelly wasn’t listening. “What about Janice?” she demanded. “She’s the one you should be inviting to coffee, not me.”
    “What’s Janice got to do with this?” he asked impatiently.
    “Janice,” Shelly snapped, her own temper short. “The woman you’ve decided to marry. Remember her? The love of your life? The woman you’re unofficially engaged to marry.”
    “It’s not unofficial anymore,” Mark explained evenly.
    “Oh, great, you’re taking me out to dinner, kissing me and at the same time picking out engagement rings with another woman.” She had to admit he’d never lied to her about his relationship with the faceless Janice. He’d been forthright about it from the beginning. But it hurt, really hurt, to learn that he was going ahead with his plans to marry Janice.
    He was about to speak, but she forestalled him, struggling to force some enthusiasm into her voice. “Congratulations are in order. I wish you both the very best.” With that she turned and bounded down the stairs, taking them recklessly fast.
    “Shelly!”
    She could hear Mark calling after her, but she ignored him, desperate to get away before the lump in her throat made it impossible to breathe. Tears had formed in her eyes and she cursed herself for being so ridiculous, for caring so much. Her vision blurred and she wiped a hand across her face, furious at her lack of control. This marriage was what she’d hoped would happen. What she wanted for Mark. Wasn’t it?
    “Shelly, for heaven’s sake, will you wait?”
    When she reached the bottom of the steps, Shelly moved into a side street, hoping to disappear in the crowd, praying Mark wouldn’t pursue her.
    She thought she’d escaped until a hand on her shoulder whirled her around.
    “Shelly, please listen,” Mark pleaded breathlessly, his shoulders heaving. “The engagement isn’t official because there is no engagement. How could I possibly marry Janice after meeting you?”

Ten

    “Y ou broke off your engagement with Janice?” Shelly demanded furiously.