Читать книгу The Summer Wedding: Groom Wanted / The Man You'll Marry - Debbie Macomber - Страница 11

Five

Four days later, Jill stepped off the plane at Sea-Tac Airport in Seattle. Her skin glowed with a golden tan, accentuated by the bold pink flower print of her new sundress. She hadn’t expected anyone to meet her, but was pleasantly surprised to see Shelly and Mark. Shelly waved excitedly when she located Jill in the baggage claim area.

“Welcome home,” Shelly said as she rushed forward, exuberantly throwing her arms around Jill. “How was Hawaii? My goodness, your tan is gorgeous. You must’ve spent hours in the sun.”

“Hawaii was wonderful.” A slight exaggeration. She’d hardly slept since Jordan’s departure.

“Tell me everything,” Shelly insisted, taking Jill’s hands. “I’m dying to find out who you met after we mailed you the wedding dress.”

“Honey,” Mark chided gently, “give her a chance to breathe.”

“Are you with someone?” Shelly asked, looking around expectantly. “I mean, you know, you’re not married, are you?”

“I’m not even close to being married,” Jill informed her friend dryly.

Mark took charge of the beach bag Jill had brought home with her, stuffed full of souvenirs and everything she couldn’t fit into her suitcase. She removed one of the three leis she was wearing and looped it around Shelly’s neck. “Here, my gift to you.”

“Oh, Jill, it’s beautiful. Thank you,” Shelly said, fingering the fragrant lei of pink orchids. As they walked toward the appropriate carousel, Shelly slipped her arm through Jill’s. “I can’t wait a second longer. Tell me what happened after the dress arrived. I want to hear every detail.”

Jill had been dreading this moment, but she hadn’t thought she’d face it quite so soon. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to return the dress.”

Shelly stared at her as if she hadn’t heard correctly. “Pardon?”

“I didn’t meet anyone.”

“You mean to tell me you spent seven days in Hawaii and you didn’t speak to a single man?” Shelly asked incredulously.

“Not exactly.”

“Aha! So there was someone.”

Jill tried not to groan. “Sort of.”

Shelly smiled, sliding one arm around her husband’s waist. “The plot thickens.”

“I met him briefly the first day. Actually I don’t think he counts….”

“Why wouldn’t he count?” Shelly asked.

“We sat next to each other on the plane, so technically we met before I got the wedding dress. I’m sure he’s not the one.” Jill had decided to play along with her friend’s theory, pretend to take it more seriously than she did. Logical objections, like this mistake in timing, should convince Shelly—but probably wouldn’t.

“In fact,” she continued, “I’ve been thinking about that dress lately, and I’m convinced you and your aunt Milly are wrong—it’s not for me. It never was.”

“But it fit you. Remember?”

Jill didn’t need to be reminded. “That was a fluke. I’m sure if I were to try it on now, it wouldn’t.”

“Then try it on! Prove me wrong.”

“Here?” Jill laughed.

“When you get home. Right now, just tell me about this guy you met. You keep trying to avoid the subject.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Jill insisted, sorry she’d said anything. She’d tried for the past few days to push every thought of Jordan from her mind, with little success. He’d haunted her remaining time on the islands, refusing to leave her alone. If she did sleep, he invaded her dreams.

“Start with his name,” Shelly said. “Surely you know his name.”

“Jordan Wilcox, but—”

“Jordan Wilcox,” Mark repeated. “He doesn’t happen to be a developer, does he?”

“He does something along those lines.”

Mark released a low whistle. “He’s one of the big boys.”

“Big boys,” Shelly echoed disparagingly. “Be more specific. Do you mean he’s tall?”

“No.” Mark’s smiling eyes briefly met Jill’s. “Although he is. I mean he’s a well-known corporate giant. I’ve met him a few times. If I understand it correctly, he puts together commercial projects, finds backers for them, works with the designer and the builders, and when the project’s complete, he sells. He’s made millions in the last few years.”

“He was in Hawaii to put together financial backing for a shopping mall,” Jill explained.

“Well,” Shelly said, eyeing her closely, “what did you think of him?”

“What was there to think? I sat next to him on the plane and we stayed in the same hotel, but that was about it.” It was best not to mention the other incidents; Shelly would put far too much stock in a couple of dinners and a day on the beach. Heaven help Jill if Shelly ever found out they’d exchanged a few kisses!

“I’m sure he’s the one,” Shelly announced gleefully. Her eyes fairly sparkled with delight. “I can feel it. He’s our man.”

“No, he isn’t,” Jill argued, knowing it was futile, yet compelled to try. “I already told you—I met him before the dress arrived. Besides, we have absolutely nothing in common.”

“Do Mark and I?” Shelly glanced lovingly at her husband. “And I’m crazy about him.”

At first, Jill had wondered what Mark, a tax consultant with orderly habits and a closetful of suits, could possibly have in common with her zany, creative, unconventional friend. The answer was simple. Nothing. But that hadn’t stopped them from falling in love. Jill couldn’t be in the same room with them without sensing the powerful attraction they felt for each other.

However, there was little similarity between Shelly’s marriage to Mark and Jill’s relationship with Jordan. What she’d learned from her father’s life—and death—was the value of balance. Although her career mattered to her, it didn’t define her life or occupy every minute of her time.

“In this case I think Jill might be right,” Mark said, his voice thoughtful.

“He’s the one,” Shelly said for the second time.

“I’ve met him,” Mark went on to say. “He’s cold and unemotional. If he does have a heart, it was frozen a long time ago.”

“So?” Ever optimistic, Shelly refused to listen. “Jill’s perfect for him, then. She’s warm and gentle and caring.”

At the moment Jill didn’t feel any of those things. Listening to Mark describe Jordan, she had to fight the urge to defend him, to tell them what Andrew Howard had told her. Yes, Jordan was everything Mark said, but there was another side to him, one Jill had briefly encountered. One that was so appealing it had frightened her into running away, which was exactly what she’d done that day on the beach. He’d kissed her and she’d known immediately, intuitively, that she’d never be the same. But knowing it didn’t alter her resolve. She couldn’t love him because the price would be too high. He would give her all the things she craved, but eventually she’d end up like her mother, lonely and bitter.

“I just can’t imagine Jordan Wilcox married,” Mark concluded.

“I can,” Shelly interrupted with unflinching enthusiasm. “To Jill.”

“Shelly,” Mark said, grinning indulgently, “listen to reason.”

“When has falling in love ever been reasonable?” She fired the question at her husband, who merely shrugged, then turned back to Jill. “Did you tell him about Aunt Milly’s wedding dress?”

“Good heavens, no!”

“All the better. I’ll bet you really threw the guy for a loop. Was he on this flight?”

“No, he returned four days ago.”

“Four days ago?” Shelly asked suspiciously. “There’s something you’re not telling us. Come on, Jill, fess up. You did a whole lot more than sit next to him on the plane. And Mark and I want to know what.”

“Uh …” Jill was tired from the flight and her resistance was low. Under normal circumstances she would’ve sidestepped the issue. “It isn’t like it sounds,” she said weakly. “We talked, that’s all.”

“Did you kiss?” The question came out in a soft whisper. “The first time Mark kissed me was when I knew. If you and Jordan kissed, there wouldn’t be any doubt in your mind. You’d know.”

Sooner or later Shelly would worm it out of her. By telling the truth now, Jill thought she might be able to avoid a lengthy inquisition later. “All right, fine. We did kiss. A couple of times.”

Even Mark seemed surprised by that.

“See?” Shelly cried triumphantly. “And what happened?”

Jill heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Nothing. I want to return the wedding dress.”

“Sorry,” Shelly said, her eyes flashing with excitement, “it’s nonreturnable.”

“I don’t plan on ever seeing him again,” Jill said adamantly. She’d more or less told Jordan that, too. He was in full agreement; he wanted nothing to do with her, either. “I insist you take back the wedding dress,” Jill said. Shelly and Mark’s eyes met. Slowly they smiled, as if sharing a private joke.

But in Jill’s opinion, there was nothing to smile about.

* * *

The first person Jill called when she got home was her mother. Their conversation was friendly, and she was relieved to find Elaine less vague and self-absorbed than she’d been recently. Jill told a few anecdotes, described the island and the hotel, but avoided telling her mother about Jordan.

She was strangely reluctant to call Ralph, even though she knew he was waiting to hear from her. He was terribly nice, but unfortunately she found him … a bit dull. She put off calling; two days later, he called her, leaving a message.

They’d kissed a few times, and the kisses were pleasant enough, but for her there wasn’t any spark. When Jordan took her in his arms it felt like a forest fire compared to the placid warmth she experienced with Ralph.

Jordan. Forgetting him hadn’t become any easier. Jill had assumed that once she was home, surrounded by everything that was familiar and comfortable, she’d be able to put their brief interlude behind her.

It hadn’t happened.

Wednesday afternoon, Jill returned home from work, put water on for tea and began reading the paper. Normally she didn’t glance at the financial section. She wasn’t sure why she did now. Skimming the headlines, she idly folded back the page—and saw Jordan’s name. It seemed to leap out at her.

Jill’s heart slowed, then vaulted into action as she read the article. He’d done it. The paper was reporting Jordan’s latest coup. His company had reached an agreement with a land-management outfit in Hawaii, and construction on the shopping mall would begin within the next three months.

He must be pleased. Although he hadn’t said much, Jill knew Jordan had wanted this project to fly. A hundred questions bombarded her. Had he heard from Andrew Howard? Had the older man joined forces with Jordan, after all? Had he asked Jordan about her, and if so, what had Jordan told him?

Jill had thought of writing Mr. Howard a note, but she didn’t have his address. She didn’t have Jordan’s, either; however, it was a simple matter of checking the internet for his company’s address.

Before she could determine the wisdom of her actions, she scribbled a few lines of congratulation, addressed the envelope, and the next morning, mailed the card. She had no idea if it would even reach him.

Two days later when Jill came home from work, she noticed a long luxury car parked in front of her apartment building. Other than giving it an inquisitive glance, she didn’t pay any attention. She was shuffling through her purse, searching for her keys, when she heard someone approach from behind.

She turned her head to see—and nearly dropped her purse. It was Jordan. He looked very much as he had the first time she’d met him. Cynical and hard. Detached and unemotional. His smoky gray eyes scanned her, but there was nothing to indicate that he was glad to see her, or if he’d spared her a moment’s thought since they’d parted. Nothing but cool indifference.

“Hello, Jill.”

She was so flustered that the newspaper, which she’d tucked under her arm, fell to the floor. Stooping, she retrieved it, then clutched it against her chest as she straightened. “Jordan.”

“I got your note.”

“I—I wanted you to know how happy I was for you.”

He was staring pointedly at her door.

“Um, would you like to come inside?” she asked, unlatching the door with fumbling fingers. “I’ll make some tea if you like. Or coffee …” She hadn’t expected this, nor was she emotionally prepared for seeing him. She’d figured he’d read the card and then drop it in his wastebasket.

“Tea sounds fine.”

“I’ll just be a minute,” she said as she hurried into the kitchen. Her heart was rampaging, pounding against her ribs. “Make yourself at home,” she called out, holding the teakettle under the faucet.

“You have a nice place,” he said, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.

“Thank you. I’ve lived here for three years.” She didn’t know why she’d told him that. It didn’t matter to him how long she’d lived there.

“Why’d you send me the card?” he asked while she was setting out cups and saucers.

She didn’t feel comfortable using her everyday mugs; she had a couple of lovely china cups her mother had given her and decided on those instead. She paused at his question, frowning slightly. “To congratulate you.”

“The real reason.”

“That was the real reason. This shopping mall was important to you and I was happy to read that everything came together. I knew you worked hard to make it happen. That was the only reason I sent you the note.” Her cheeks heated at his implication. He seemed to believe something she hadn’t intended—or had she?

“Andrew Howard decided to invest in the project at the last minute. It was his support that made the difference.”

Jill nodded. “I was hoping he would.”

“I have you to thank for that.”

Nothing in his expression suggested he was grateful for any assistance she might unwittingly have given him. His features remained cold and hard. The man who’d spent that day on the beach with her wasn’t the harsh, unrelenting businessman who stood before her now.

“If I played any part in Mr. Howard’s decision, I’m sure it was small.”

“He seemed quite taken with you.”

“I was quite taken with him, too.”

A flicker of emotion passed through Jordan’s eyes, one so fleeting, so transitory, she was sure she’d imagined it.

“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.”